I 


BX  7260   .P62  W66  1867 
Woolsey,  Theodore  Dwight, 

1801-1889. 
Memorial  of  Noah  Porter,  D 


I 


MEMORIAL 


OF 

NOAH  PORTER,  D.  D. 


LATE  OF 


F^RMI:^^aTo:Is^,  conn. 

COMPRISING  THE  DISCOURSES  OF 


PRES.  T.  D.  WOOLSET,  REV.  LEVI  L.  PALSTE, 

AND 

HORACE  BUSHNELL,  D.  D., 

OCCASIONED  BY  fflS  DEATH. 


PARMINGTON: 
PUBLISHED  BY  SAMUEL  S.  COWLES. 
18G7. 


FUISrER^L  ADDRESS, 

BY 

THEODORE  D.  WOOLSEY,  D.  D. 

President  of  Yale  College. 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arcliive 
in  2014 


littps://arcliive.org/details/memorialofnoalipoOOwool 


PRIITCETCr.T 
Rto.  StP  ibou 

thsologica: 


ADDRESS. 


I  APPEAR  before  you  to-day,  my  friends  and  fellow- 
Christians,  with  the  feeling  that  it  is  a  high  privOege 
and  honor  to  stand  in  this  pulpit  and  give  my  testimony 
to  the  worth  of  the  venerable  man  who  is  now  no  more. 
I  feel  also  that  it  is  a  duty  I  owe  to  the  memory  of  one 
with  whom  I  was  most  pleasantly  associated  during  the 
sixteen  years  when  we  were  together  members  of  the 
Corporation  of  Yale  College.  Still  more,  a  long  inti- 
macy with  his  son,  who  is  traveling  across  the  water  to 
recover  health  and  strength  after  exhaustive  labors, 
persuades  me  that  there  is  a  certain  propriety  in  my 
paying  a  public  tribute  of  respect  to  a  father  whom  he 
so  much  reveres.  And  yet  may  I  not  say  that  I  come 
here  with  embarrassment,  partly  because  I  fail  in  that 
minute  and  circumstantial  knowledge  which  is  so  im- 
portant on  occasions  like  tliese,  and  partly  because  you 
all  know  the  venerable  man  at  whose  funeral  we  are 
gathered,  so  well,  that  you  need  no  description  of  his 
life  and  character,  and  because  you  honor  him  with 
such  unqualified  honor,  that  he  needs  no  eulogy. 
There  is  something  very  peculiar  in  this  case.  Here 


6 


is  a  man  who  has  lived  eighty  years  among  you.  Your 
fathers,  your  grandfathers,  knew  him.  He  has  acquired 
a  traditionary  character.  He  is  known  by  you  as  well 
as  the  rocks  you  look  at  from  your  windows,  or  the 
stream  that  enriches  your  meadows.  Is  there  any 
doubt  in  your  minds  what  Dr.  Porter  was,  or  any  mis- 
givings as  to  his  main  principles  of  life,  or  has  the  view 
taken  of  him  a  generation  ago  changed  in  any  respect, 
except  in  becoming  more  and  more  confirmed  ?  And 
was  there  not  in  the  man  himself  a  stability,  an  even 
growth,  a  placid  flow  of  character,  so  that  the  compan- 
ions of  the  young  man,  and  the  parishioners  of  his 
middle  life,  and  the  friends  of  his  declining  years,  if 
they  could  all  be  assembled  together,  would  utter  one 
common  voice  in  regard  to  him  ?  Nay,  more,  would 
not  the  old  men  of  his  youthful  pastorate,  and  the 
young  men  of  his  old  age  speak  one  and  the  same  lan- 
guage?— expressing  thus  the  estimate  of  him,  enter- 
tained by  five  or  even  six  generations  of  such  as  have 
seen  him  in  daily  life.  Now  when  his  character  is  seen 
thus  to  rest  on  an  immovable  rock,  and  when  his  repute 
has  not  veered  for  sixty  years,  there  is  an  unbroken 
testimony  for  him  a  thousand  times  stronger  than  any- 
thing that  a  man  may  say.  Why  then  say  anything  ? 
Why  not  commit  him  to  the  grave  amid  the  unex- 
pressed memories  of  multitudes  who  are  certain,  every 
one  of  them,  that  every  other  pays  him  an  unquestion- 
ing tribute  of  reverence?  Why  should  not  sacred 
silence  reign  here  rather  than  the  words  of  a  mortal, 
and  joy  that  a  life  so  bright  has  set  so  blessedly,  and 


7 


love  for  the  man  who  generations  long  has  shed  his 
placid  influences  on  this  favored  spot  ?  Such  is  my 
feeling,  such  must  be  yours.  And  the  feeling  would  be 
justified,  were  it  not  that  in  expressing  our  feelings  we 
honor  the  man,  we  seek  to  honor  the  Master  who 
placed  him  in  the  ministry,  we  disclose  our  thankful- 
ness to  God  for  such  a  life  so  long  continued,  we  utter 
with  a  common  voice  our  testimony  to  the  value  of 
that  holy  Gospel  that  can  make  men  means  of  so  much 
good,  and  can  so  round  off  the  character. 

The  lives  of  some  men  are  subjected  to  a  great  vari- 
ety of  formative  influences,  so  that  many  sides  of  the 
character  are  cultivated  at  once,  or  it  may  be  that  sin- 
ister impulses  from  one  quarter  are  simply  repelled  and 
neutralized  by  opposing  causes.  Dr.  Porter's  life  nei- 
ther had  nor  needed  such  diversified  influences.  His 
simplicity  of  nature  was  unfolded  under  the  sway  of 
simple  circumstances ;  he  was  Uke  a  plant  which  trans- 
plantation will  not  improve,  which  can  thrive  best 
under  the  genial  and  wonted  influences  of  its  native 
soil.  Born  in  1781,  in  this  tranquil  spot,  the  descend- 
ant of  ancestors  who  had  here  lived  religious  lives  since 
1652,  when  one  of  them  was  among  the  first  settlers  of 
the  town,  and  the  first  founders  of  this  church,  the  son 
of  a  father  who  "  was  many  years  one  of  its  deacons," 
baptized  here  in  his  infancy,  he  looked  forward  to  no 
other  life  than  that  of  a  farmer,  to  which  his  ancestors 
had  been  devoted.  His  father  placed  him  in  his  early 
youth  in  the  family  of  the  Eev.  Mr.  Washburn,  then 
the  minister  of  the  parish,  to  pass  a  winter  with  him 


'8 


for  the  completion  of  his  education.  Then  it  was,  if  I 
am  not  deceived,  that  he  had  those  quiet  but  effectual 
religious  impressions  which  led  him  to  seek  admission 
into  the  church.  His  pastor,  seeing  in  him  the  power 
and  the  spirit  to  serve  God  in  the  ministry,  persuaded 
him  to  consecrate  himself  to  the  sacred  calling.  His 
father  was  averse  to  this  change  in  his  plan  of  life,  as 
involving  almost  of  course  a  separation  from  the  place 
of  his  nativity  and  his  home.  "  It  was,"  to  adopt  his 
own  words,  "  in  a  conflict  of  feelings  between  a  desire 
for  the  ministry  and  a  sense  of  obligation  to  his  parents 
in  their  declining  age,  that  he  was  induced  "  to  abandon 
plans  which  had  been  formed  for  him,  and  to  the  fulfill- 
ment of  which  he  had  looked  forward.  This,  perhaps, 
was  the  crisis  of  his  life,  involving,  it  may  be,  more 
struggle  than  would  be  gathered  from  his  own  calm 
words.  But  the  problem  of  Providence  was  soon 
worked  out  in  a  way  that  none  of  the  parties  dreamed 
of  The  son,  obeying  the  command  of  God  like  Abra- 
ham, was  not  called  to  a  long  separation  from  those 
who  were  unwilling  that  he  should  leave  them.  The 
minister  who  had  led  him  to  his  new  profession  was 
disabled  and  died  just  as  he  was  ready  to  preach  the 
gospel,  and  as  Mr.  Washburn  died,  he  was  called  to  be 
his  successor.  The  father  recovered  him,  enlarged  in 
gifts,  to  be  a  spiritual  friend  and  comforter. 

The  years  between  his  determination  to  enter  the 
ministry  and  his  call  to  the  pulpit  in  his  native  town, 
passed  quickly  by  in  the  work  of  preparatory  disci- 
pline.   How  faithfully  he  studied  when  in  college,  and 


9 


what  confidence  he  inspired  in  himself,  may  be  gath- 
ered from  the  fact  that  he  delivered  the  valedictory 
oration  of  his  class  at  the  public  commencement  of 
1803,  and  that  in  1806  he  was  selected  as  the  first  from 
his  class  for  the  office  of  tutor.  This  office  he  declined, 
and  it  was  only  a  few  weeks  afterward  that  he  was  called 
by  Providence  to  become  the  pastor  of  this  chm'ch. 

That  he  should  be  called,  so  soon  after  being  licensed 
as  a  preacher  of  the  gospel,  to  the  church  in  his  native 
town,  is  surely  no  slight  proof  of  the  confidence  reposed 
in  his  talents,  his  gifts  as  a  sermonizer,  and  his  piety. 
But  that  he  should  continue  to  enjoy  the  respect  and 
love  of  those  who  had  known  him  as  a  boy,  that  he 
should  for  once  belie  the  old  proverb  that  a  prophet  is 
without  honor  in  his  own  country,  that  he  should  be 
able  to  retain  this  respect  and  love  through  an  unbro- 
ken ministry  of  fifty-five  years,  until  he  was  supplied 
with  a  colleague,  that  he  should  until  nearly  the  age 
of  eighty-five,  like  some  grand  old  tree,  of  which  no  one 
now  remembers  the  beginnings,  be  the  object  of  the 
regards  of  all  passers  hy.—this  indeed,  in  our  tune  of 
removals  and  short  ministerial  lives,  is  something  re- 
markable. At  his  death,  he  was  the  oldest  minister  in 
Connecticut,  the  father  of  the  clergy.  In  his  half-cen- 
tury discourse  he  thus  expresses  hunself,  after  speaking 
of  the  goodness  of  God  in  givmg  him  a  field  of  labor 
so  much  to  his  mind :  "I  have  [also]  reason  to  admire 
his  goodness  in  having  continued  me  in  it  so  long,  and 
enabled  me  to  prosecute  my  work  in  it  with  so  little 
interruption.    Fifty  years,  with  the  intermission  of 


10 


only  a  few  weeks,  some  by  sickness  and  some  by  nec- 
essary absence,  I  have  gone  out  and  come  in  among 
you.  Few  men  live  so  long ;  fewer  preach  so  long ; 
and  very  few  do  this  statedly  so  long  in  the  same 
charge.  [None,  he  might  have  added,  in  the  place 
where  they  were  born  and  brought  up.]  I  believe 
there  is  not  at  present  another  pastor  in  Connecticut 
who  was  ordained  before  me  and  has  the  sole  charge 
of  the  church  in  which  he  was  first  installed."  And 
this  in  his  humility  he  ascribes  to  the  fact  that  "  the 
people  have  been  more  stable,  and  that  leading  men  here 
have  been  deeply  impressed  with  the  importance  of  a 
stable  ministry,  and  have  been  disposed  to  bear  and 
forbear  that  they  might  secure  it."  Very  possibly,  but 
has  not  the  minister  himself  much  to  do  with  the  sta- 
bility of  the  people,  or  could  a  man  of  a  character  just 
the  reverse  of  his  have  kept  so  long  the  confidence 
which  he  had  at  first  attracted. 

And  what  was  the  success  of  Dr.  Porter's  ministry  ? 
It  was  such  that  he  might  well,  as  he  looked  back  upon 
his  career  from  the  last  years  of  his  life,  give  thanks  to 
the  chief  Shepherd  that  he  had  taken  him  into  his  ser- 
vice, and  given  him  the  care  of  souls.  It  was  such 
that  this  Christian  church  may  well  give  thanks  to  the 
chief  Shepherd  that  he  assigned  to  his  servant  this 
field  of  labor,  and  brought  him  into  connection  with 
this  flock.  It  is  true  that  since  Dr.  Porter  began  his 
ministry  two  churches,  those  of  Unionville  and  Plain- 
ville,  having  been  formed  out  of  the  mother  church  in 
the  village  of  Farmington,  the  number  of  attendants 


11 


at  public  worship  has  been  reduced  one-half,  so  that  in 
later  times  a  much  less  number  of  souls  has  been  under 
his  charge.  It  is  true,  also,  that  for  the  first  fifteen 
years  of  his  pastorate,  from  1806  to  1821,  the  church 
hardly  held  its  own,  the  number  of  admissions  not 
being  quite  equal  to  the  number  of  removals  and 
of  deaths.  It  is  true,  again,  that  many  who  were  for  a 
time  under  his  influence,  emigrated  to  other  parts  of 
the  country,  and  no  longer  felt  the  power  of  his  life 
and  preaching.  But  the  blessing  that  has  accompanied 
his  labors  has  been  great  and  permanent :  if  the  church 
is  not  so  strong  as  it  was  when  the  population  of  a 
much  larger  district  met  in  this  place,  it  has  yet  sent 
out  its  colonies  to  strengthen  the  kingdom  of  Christ ; 
it  has  sent  out  its  sons  to  diffuse  the  gospel  here 
taught  through  all  parts  of  this  land.  The  first  marked 
success  of  Dr.  Porter's  preaching  was  in  1821,  a  year 
of  blessings  from  God  to  many  churches,  when  not 
less. than  two  hundred  and  fifty  converts  were  the  fruit 
of  the  labors  of  the  pastor  and  of  Mr  Nettleton,  and 
two  hundred  and  thirty-four  made  a  profession  of  reli- 
gion in  this  house.  Of  these,  to  use  Dr.  Porter's  own 
words,  "  a  large  proportion  were  heads  of  families,  and 
of  the  most  wealthy,  intelligent  and  influential  in 
the  congregation.  The  moral  aspect  of  society,  and 
more  especially  in  this  village,  was  wonderfully  changed. 
Prayer  and  praise  were  heard  in  almost  every  house, 
quarrels  were  settled,  animosities  were  healed.  Christian 
unity  and  fellowship  were  the  bond  of  social  life,  and 
zeal  for  the  spread  of  the  gospel  and  the  conversion  of 


12 


men  to  God  called  forth  the  activities  of  hundreds  who 
had  been  alive  only  to  their  private,  worldly  interests." 

This  was  the  most  marked  blessing  on  Dr.  Porter's 
work  as  a  minister.  But  from  this  time  onward,  until 
he  closed  his  ministry,  the  showers  of  grace  were  fre- 
quent. In  1826,  the  youth  in  the  Academy  came  un- 
der the  sway  of  divine  truth,  and  twenty-five  made  a 
profession  of  religion  not  long  afterward.  In  1828,  a 
revival  penetrated  into  one  part  of  the  town,  and  thir- 
ty-seven were  received  into  the  church  as  its  fruits. 
The  revival  of  1831,  brought  forty  into  the  church  ;  in 
1834,  fifty  were  received ;  in  1838,  ninety-four ;  in 
1840,  twenty-five ;  in  1843,  ninety-seven ;  in  1851, 
fifty-five.  In  all,  up  to  that  last  year,  eight  hundred 
and  sixty-six  were  gathered  into  the  fold  of  Christ,  a 
great  host  for  one  man  to  be  the  instrument  in  leading 
to  God  and  to  salvation.  Many  of  these  are  still  here 
to  testify  to  the  reahty  of  God's  work,  and  the  fidelity 
of  the  pastor ;  not  a  few  who  are  gone  forth  to  a  dis- 
tance from  their  early  home,  remember  this  as  the 
birthplace  of  their  souls,  and  our  venerated  friend  as 
their  spiritual  father;  but  the  majority  are  gone  before 
him,  and  who  can  tell  the  joy  of  those  recognitions,  of 
that  interchange  of  love,  of  that  Christian  fellowship 
between  the  glorified  Christian  and  the  instrument  of 
his  salvation,  that  must  cheer  and  brighten  the  heav- 
enly world. 

The  doctrines  which  Dr.  Porter  taught,  and  by  which 
he  won  souls  for  Christ,  were  the  same  old  doctrines 
which  were  preached  in  this  church  since  it  was  built, 


13 


and  in  New  England  since  it  was  settled,  the  doctrines 
in  substance  of  Edwards,  as  interpreted  by  Dr.  Dwight, 
whom  Dr.  Porter,  as  his  instructor  and  friend,  held  in 
the  highest  honor.  They  were  in  short  the  doctrines 
of  a  mild  Calvinism,  as  modified  by  the  New  England 
divines  of  the  former  days,  when  theology  was  studied 
as  the  highest  of  the  sciences,  with  the  utmost  earnest- 
ness and  concentration  of  thought.  Yet,  as  there  are 
two  schools,  even  in  New  England,  it  is  proper  to  say 
that  he  agreed  through  the  middle  and  decline  of  his 
life,  on  the  whole,  with  his  friend,  Dr.  Taylor,  in  his 
philosophy  of  Christian  truth.  In  fact,  his  own  opinions 
changed  in  some  slight  degree  as  he  grew  in  years,  just 
as  those  of  Dr.  Taylor  were,  in  some  minor  points, 
deviations  from  the  scheme  of  Dr.  Dwight.  Of  this 
change  Dr.  Porter  in  his  half-century  discourse  gives  us 
so  instructive  an  account  that  I  cannot  forbear  to  quote 
a  somewhat  long  passage  relating  to  this  subject. 

"  There  are  points  of  doctrine,"  says  he,  "  which  have 
been  variously  expounded  in  this  church,  as  in  other 
churches  of  New  England,  in  the  progress  of  two  cen- 
turies. At  the  opening  of  our  records  is  a  catechism, 
which  seems  to  have  been  adopted  by  the  church  at  its 
formation,  as  a  confession  of  faith.  According  to  it, 
'Adam's  transgression  is  imputed  to  his  posterity,'  by 
which  '  they  are  liable  to  eternal  misery.'  '  The  sin  of 
mankind  is  of  two  kinds,  original  and  actual.'  '  Origi- 
nal sin  is  the  swerving  of  their  whole  nature  from  the 
law  of  God.'  'Actual  sin  is  the  swerving  of  all  their 
actions  from  his  law.'    '  Justification  is  the  imputation 


14 


of  Christ's  righteousness  to  the  believer.'  '  The  righte- 
ousness of  Christ  is  two-fold,  his  active  and  his  passive 
obedience ! '  '  His  active  obedience  is  that  wherein  he 
fulfilled  all  righteousness — his  performing  all  the  duties 
required  in  the  law.'  '  His  passive  obedience  is  that 
wherein  he  fulfilled  all  the  sufferings  that  the  breach 
of  the  law  required.'  '  Man  by  nature  cannot  believe 
of  himself  These  forms  of  doctrine  have  their  foun- 
dation in  truth ;  yet  there  are  few  of  us,  if  any,  who 
could  give  our  assent  to  them  without  explanation  and 
qualification.  As  forms,  they  have  gradually  and  with- 
out controversy,  been  dropped,  both  in  the  standing 
confessions  of  the  church  and  the  teachings  of  the  pul- 
pit. Silently,  under  better  light,  they  have  given 
place  to  others  more  correspondent  with  the  simplicity 
of  the  Gospel,  and  more  commending  themselves  to 
the  conscience.  Shades  of  them  have  indeed  reached 
our  own  times ;  were  received  by  myself,  as  I  had  been 
taught,  and  were  adopted  and  preached  in  some  of  my 
earlier  discourses,  together  with  certain  theories  of  re- 
generation, and  certain  explanations  of  the  reasons  of 
the  counsels  of  God  in  the  permission  of  sin,  and  of  his 
sovereignty  in  election  and  reprobation,  for  which,  on 
careful  examination  since,  I  have  found  no  warrant  in 
the  Scriptures,  and  the  preaching  of  which,  I  greatly 
fear,  was  a  stumbling  block  to  certain  hearers,  whose 
prejudices  against  the  truth  I  deplored.  As  it  has  been 
I  suppose  it  will  be.  While  I  am  sure  that  the  scheme 
of  doctrine  which  I  have  preached,  is  for  substance  the 
same  as  has  been  preached  here  from  the  beginning, 


15 


and  is  the  true  Gospel  of  the  grace  of  God,  I  cannot 
presume  that  those  who  will  come  after  me  will  not 
jBnd  in  it  mistakes,  if  not  as  great  as  we  see  in  the 
preaching  of  the  former  times,  yet  such  as  mar  the 
purity  and  obstruct  the  power  of  '  the  truth  as  it  is  in 
Jesus  ; '  for  as  Baxter  quaintly  but  forcibly  says:  '  the 
word  of  God  is  divine,  but  our  mode  of  dispensing  it  is 
human,  and  there  is  scarcely  anything  we  have  the  hand- 
ling of,  but  we  leave  on  it  the  prints  of  our  fingers.'  But 
while  I  say  this,  it  is  due  to  myself  and  to  the  truth  of 
God  to  say,  that  in  the  burden  of  my  preaching,  I  have 
not  come  to  you  doubtfully,  with  opinions  and  argu- 
ments of  my  own,  but  I  have  come  to  you  '  declaring 
the  testimony  of  God,' — referring  you  to  his  word  for 
my  authority,  and  to  your  own  sense  of  its  import  as 
my  witness, — that  your  faith  might  not  stand  in  the 
wisdom  of  man,  but  in  the  power  of  God,  assured  that 
whatever  imperfection  there  may  be  in  our  reasonings, 
there  can  be  none  in  his  word." 

What  noble  words  are  these  !  how  full  of  manliness, 
modesty  and  freedom ;  how  ready  he  is  to  confess  to 
slight  changes  of  religious  philosophy  in  the  course  of 
a  long  life ;  how  tolerant  of  the  opposing  sentiments  of 
others ;  how  sensible  that  there  may  be  errors  remaining 
in  his  own  system,  which  wiser  generations  will  discard, 
yet  how  sure  that  he  has  built  on  the  foundation  other 
than  which  no  man  can  lay ;  how  inclined  to  test  a 
theology  by  the  practical  effects  of  its  doctrines  on  the 
consciences  of  men,  and  yet  how  submissive  in  the  end 
to  the  authority  of  Scripture,  which  is  all  perfect  as  the 


16 


sun,  too  perfect  for  our  limited  faculties  to  grasp  and 
to  unfold  without  stripping  it  of  part  of  its  glory. 

The  method  of  sermonizing  which  Dr.  Porter  adopted 
in  the  first  years  of  his  ministry,  was,  so  far  as  I  am 
able  to  ascertain,  that  which  prevailed  in  New  England 
when  he  began  to  preach.  His  discourses  were  at  that 
time  theological  and  formal,  such  as  his  people  would 
naturally  expect  to  hear  and  he  would  naturally  at 
that  time  regard  as  most  calculated  to  do  good  to  the 
souls  of  men.  In  connection  with  the  gradual  change 
in  his  way  of  presenting  and  vindicating  the  gospel,  he 
had  recourse  to  a  freer  method  which  allowed  of  more 
illustration  and  a  wider  range  of  topics,  and  was  less 
technical  in  the  exhibition  of  doctrinal  truth.  In  the 
later  portion  of  his  ministerial  life,  during  the  last  twen- 
ty-five years,  by  reading  Neander's  life  of  Christ,  and 
other  similar  works,  he  acquired  a  new  interest  in  bibli- 
cal study,  and  in  the  results  of  historical  interpretation. 
This  refreshed  his  mind  and  furnished  new  matter  for 
his  sermons,  which  after  this  were  richer,  more  instruc- 
tive, more  complete  in  every  respect.  Throughout  his 
ministry  his  style  was  simple  and  chaste.  With  the 
capacity  of  becoming  a  finished  preacher  after  the  best 
rhetorical  model,  he  deliberately  chose  that  manner  of 
writing  and  of  exhibiting  truth,  which  in  his  judgment 
seemed  most  fitted  to  do  good  to  his  hearers.  I  re- 
member long  ago  to  have  heard  that  in  the  first  years 
of  his  ministry  he  found  himself  inclined  to  reach  after 
beauty  and  finish  of  style,  but  carefully  restrained  him- 
self in  favor  of  great  simphcity  and  directness.  Prac- 


17 


tical  usefulness  was  his  constant  aim,  as  was  manifest 
in  the  adaptation  of  his  discourses  to  the  state  of  his 
parish,  in  his  bold  and  faithful  rebukes  of  prevailing 
sins,  in  the  suitableness  of  his  personal  applications  of 
truth.  He  was  earnest  and  often  rose  into  a  fine  un- 
studied eloquence. 

Dr.  Porter  in  an  eminent  sense  made  his  pastoral  and 
pulpit  labors  his  life  work.  Being  engrossed  by  this, 
he  found  small  leisure  for  reading ;  he  seldom  wrote 
for  the  press ;  he  was  very  rarely  absent  from  home, 
even  on  public  religious  occasions;  he  found  attention 
to  his  land  to  be  so  much  of  a  burden  that  he  was  com- 
pelled to  throw  it  off  from  his  shoulders,  and  he  never 
gave  himself  to  mere  relaxation.  He  always  appeared 
in  the  pulpit  with  a  written  discourse  ;  always,  I  say, 
until  the  last  year  of  his  life,  when  once  or  twice  he 
ventured  on  extemporaneous  addresses.  And  yet  his 
unwritten  remarks,  on  other  occasions,  were  full  of 
variety,  richness  of  thought,  and  tender  Christian 
feeling. 

As  a  pastor,  Dr.  Porter  was  laborious,  systematic, 
wholly  devoted  to  his  work,  a  father  to  his  people  of 
every  condition  down  to  the  lowest.  In  the  early  years 
of  his  ministry,  before  the  churches  in  Unionville  and 
Plainville  took  off  a  part  of  his  parishioners  from  the 
mother  church,  his  pastoral  charge  was  particularly 
heavy,  the  rides  through  his  parish  were  l©ng,  and  the 
population  of  whom  he  had  the  spiritual  oversight  was 
large.  But  he  shrunk  not  from  the  work,  nor  neglected 
3 


18 


it.  In  middle  life  he  met  his  people  in  the  lecture-room 
on  Sunday  evening,  after  the  two  discourses  in  the 
church;  Monday  evening  was  devoted  to  the  holding 
of  a  meeting  in  one  of  the  outer  districts  of  the  town, 
and  on  Wednesday  evening  there  was  another  meeting 
at  the  centre  of  the  parish.  He  visited  all  the  schools 
and  catechised  the  children.  He  took  an  interest  in 
the  Academy,  and  in  all  the  young  persons  who  were 
gathered  in  Farmington  for  their  education.  He  was 
most  faithful  in  visiting  the  sick  ;  knew  everybody,  and 
befriended  the  poor  and  the  destitute.  In  January  last 
he  called  upon  all  the  people  of  the  village,  rich  and 
poor.  During  the  summer  he  made  stated  visits  to  a 
cluster  of  very  poor  and  ignorant  people  in  one  part  of 
the  town  in  order  to  instruct  them  in  the  things  of  the 
Gospel.  Probably  few  ministers  of  his  time,  as  pastors 
and  preachers,  have  been  more  successful,  more  faithful, 
or  more  laborious. 

Success  like  his,  and  a  hold  such  as  he  had  on  his 
people  for  so  long  a  life,  seems  to  suppose  not  only  in- 
tellectual, but  moral  and  spiritual  qualities  of  a  high 
order. 

He  was  a  man  of  decided  ability,  of  a  mind  well 
developed  in  all  its  powers,  of  good  reasoning  and  in- 
tuitive faculties,  of  an  excellent  taste  and  a  sound 
judgment,  with  a  thirst  for  knowledge  which  did  not 
permit  him  to  stagnate  even  in  old  age.  But  his  qual- 
ities of  character  were  more  rare  and  beautiful.  He 
had  great  modesty  and  humility  in  his  estimate  of  him- 
self, which  kept  him  as  remote  from  self-consciousness 


19 


and  vanity  as  possible.  Ho  bad  an  artless,  simple,  un- 
pretending character,  with  no  trickery  or  finesse  about 
it.  He  was  a  man  of  uncommon  mildness  and  meek- 
ness of  temper,  disposed  to  yield  to  others  rather  than 
to  force  his  claims  upon  them,  not  easily  irritated  by 
opposition,  nor  losing  his  self-control,  willing  to  com- 
promise rather  than  to  enter  into  a  conihct.  He  was 
not  indeed  the  man  to  head  an  aggressive  movement ; 
he  was  more  like  the  Apostle  John  than  like  Paul,  more 
like  Melancthon  than  hke  Luther,  and  if,  when  duty 
imperatively  demanded  it,  he  could  overcome  the  mild- 
ness of  his  nature,  yet  it  was  not  without  a  force  put 
upon  lumself.  He  appeared  to  have  no  love  of  power, 
nor  strong  desire  of  personal  distinction,  nor  jealousy, 
nor  pride.  If  any  of  these  quahties  were  in  him  by 
nature,  grace  had  rooted  them  out. 

And  what  a  genial  character  did  that  grace  make 
him — how  loving,  how  hopeful,  how  forbeatring,  how 
mild  in  rebuke,  how  earnest  for  the  welfare  of  Christ's 
cause,  how  pure  and  holy.  You  who  heard  him  and 
knew  what  he  was  in  private,  who  heard  him  in  aU 
moods  and  "frames  of  mind,  and  saw  him  in  a  great 
variety  of  situations,  you  can  best  testify  what  a  calm, 
even,  placid  life  of  godliness  was  his.  You  young 
people,  removed  from  him  by  age  and  the  changes  of 
society,  can  testify  how  he  inspired  mingled  love  and 
reverence  in  a  high  degree  ;  you  will  say,  I  am  confi- 
dent, that  few  old  persons  you  have  seen  have  been 
more  lovely  than  he,  that  few  old  Christians  have  shone 
with  so  soft  and  mild  a  light. 


20 

} 

His  excellence  caused  him  to  be  widely  known  and 
honored  beyond  the  bounds  of  his  parish,  as,  for  in- 
stance, in  the  neighboring  churches,  in  the  councils  of 
religious  societies,  and  in  the  corporation  of  Yale  Col- 
lege. Of  this  last  body  he  was  a  member  for  thirty- 
nine  years,  and  of  its  most  important  committee  for  a 
portion  of  that  period.  Here  I  saw  him  frequently,  and 
the  same  meek,  gentle  character  which  he  manifested 
elsewhere  was  conspicuous  here  also.  I  never  saw  him 
discomposed  or  irritated  in  debate,  never  disturbed  by 
opposition,  never  other  than  the  gentlest  and  kindest 
of  men. 

And  with  such  a  temper  so  sanctified  by  the  power 
of  grace,  amid  scenes  so  congenial,  with  so  much  more 
than  ordinary  success  attending  his  labors,  he  lived  a 
quiet,  happy  life.  Providence,  too,  had  exempted  him 
from  the  domestic  afflictions  to  which  almost  every  life 
so  protracted  is  exposed, — he  did  not  outlive  his  family. 
Every  child  he  ever  had  is  still  living,  and  he  has  had 
comfort  in  them  all.  But  old  age  was  stealing  on  him. 
It  was  harder  for  him  to  hear  than  formerly,  and  at 
length  even  eye-sight  began  to  fail.  It  was  time  to 
withdraw  from  one  and  another  of  the  relations  of  the 
outward  world.  In  his  beautiful  half-century  sermon 
of  1856,  he  contemplates  throwing  part  of  his  work 
upon  a  colleague.  In  1862,  he  insisted,  against  the 
wishes  of  his  associates,  on  leaving  the  Corporation  of 
Yale  College,  on  account  of  his  deafness,  and  already 
the  year  before,  was  a  colleague  found  acceptable  to 
him  and  to  the  people.    How  gracefully  he  retired 


21 


from  a  part,  and  at  length  from  nearly  all  his  ministe- 
rial labor ;  with  Avhat  a  fatherly  spirit  he  met  his  young 
associate ;  how  httle  he  wanted  to  keep  the  authority 
of  a  minister  after  the  active  functions  were  resigned, 
it  was  beautiful  to  behold.  In  his  old  age  life  and 
sympathy  were  still  fresh.  He  read  new  books,  he  felt 
an  active  interest  as  well  in  private  as  in  public  events, 
he  entered  earnestly  into  the  great  struggle  of  our 
country,  and  rejoiced  in  the  issue.  He  was  hopeful, 
cheerful,  happy  in  life,  with  no  anxieties  as  he  looked 
forward.  And  so  he  died  peacefully  away,  not  permit- 
ted, indeed,  by  his  disease  to  know  that  death  was 
nigh,  or  to  express  his  hope,  but  in  calmness  of  spirit, 
and  with  little  bodily  pain. 

"  So  gently  shuts  the  eye  of  day ; 
So  dies  a  wave  along  the  shore." 

And  now  is  not  the  natural  lesson  taught  by  such  a 
life  that  which  is  suggested  by  one  of  the  last  verses  of 
the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews :  "  Whose  faith  follow,  con- 
sidering the  end  of  their  conversation.  Jesus  Christ 
the  same  yesterday,  to-day  and  forever."  The  refer- 
ence here  is  to  rulers  in  the  church,  or  elders,  who  had 
been  removed  by  death  from  their  earthly  labors,  and 
whose  hves  were  fresh  in  the  recollection  of  their  flock. 
Jesus  Christ,  the  unchangeable  author  of  an  unalter- 
able faith,  was  the  life-giving  fountain  from  which  their 
permanent  character  was  derived.  And  if  from  this 
same  fountain  our  departed  friend  and  father  drew  his 
Christian  strength,  as  we  have  no  doubt  that  he  did, 


22 


then  follow  ye  him.  Let  his  youthful  colleague  follow 
him,  as  one  who  has  been  privileged  in  being  brought 
into  intimate  relations  with  so  Christian  a  man.  Let 
the  people  follow  him,  who,  ever  since  he  was  a  boy, 
walked  with  God  before  their  eyes.  Cultivate  that 
permanence  of  Christian  principle  which  made  his  life 
from  boj^hood  to  eighty-five  so  complete  a  whole.  With 
such  permanence  of  Christian  character  your  Christian 
institutions  will  be  permanent,  the  gospel  among  you 
will  be  a  steady  power,  and  you  may  confidently  look 
for  the  continuance  of  that  spiritual  prosperity  which 
you  have  so  long  enjoyed. 


SERMO  1^, 

BY 

Rey.  Levi  l.  Paine. 


SERMON. 


Heb.  xi :  4. — "And  by  it  he  being  dead  yet  speaketh." 

It  was  by  his  faith  and  piety  that  Abel  continued  to 
speak  to  the  Hebrews  so  many  ages  after  his  death. 
When  a  man  dies,  httle  long  survives  but  that  which 
was  excellent  and  godly  in  his  character.  Most  pathet- 
ically do  the  Scriptures  set  forth  the  transitoriness  of 
everything  pertaining  to  man  in  his  earthly  conditions 
and  relationships.  "As  for  man,  his  days  are  as  grass ; 
as  a  flower  of  the  field,  so  he  flourisheth.  For  the  wind 
passeth  over  it,  and  it  is  gone,  and  the  place  thereof 
shaU  know  it  no  more."  But  we  also  read,  that  "  the 
righteous  shall  be  in  everlasting  remembrance."  There 
is  something  in  piety  which  triumphs  over  the  forget- 
fulness  of  the  grave.  When  a  good  man  dies,  being 
dead  he  yet  lives  and  speaks. 

A  voice  which  has  been  more  familiar  than  any  other 
in  this  place  for  half  a  century  was  last  week  hushed 
in  death.  We  gather  again  in  this  sanctuary ;  but  the 
form  which  has  been  wont  to  meet  our  reverent  gaze  is 
4 


26 


not  here.  There  is  a  vacant  chair  at  my  side.  Yet 
Dr.  Porter  has  not  ceased  to  speak  to  us.  I  have  often 
thought,  as  I  have  endeavored  to  fulfill  the  duties  of 
my  office  in  this  pulpit,  from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath,  that 
the  silent  listener  near  me  was  preaching  far  more 
effectually  than  I  could  preach ;  and  now  though  re- 
moved from  our  sight,  he  speaks  through  the  precious 
testament  which  he  has  left  us,  of  a  godly  life  and  ex- 
ample. Let  us,  this  Sabbath  morning,  in  this  place  so 
long  consecrated  by  his  labors  and  presence,  gratefully 
open  this  testament  of  his,  and  hear  from  him  his  last 
message. 

But  you  must  bear  with  me,  if  I  speak  of  Dr.  Por- 
ter, as  I  knew  him,  in  an  imperfect  and  broken  language. 
For  the  first  time  in  my  ministry  I  feel  a  sense  of  lone- 
liness. A  relation,  one  of  the  most  sacred  and  delight- 
ful into  which  it  was  ever  my  lot  to  be  brought,  has 
been  sundered.  He  in  whose  heart  I  so  rested,  on 
whose  wisdom  I  so  relied,  and  whose  simple  presence 
so  cheered  and  lightened  my  labors,  is  taken  from  me. 
But  I  must  not  linger,  as  I  fondly  would,  over  a  per- 
sonal grief  In  this  I  but  share  in  that  which  you  all 
feel. 

I  cannot  hope,  in  the  sketch  which  I  would  draw  of 
Dr.  Porter's  character,  to  present  anything  approaching 
to  a  perfect  and  exhaustive  view  of  it.  I  have  known 
him  only  in  his  old  age.  Of  the  spiritual  struggles  and 
experiences,  of  the  labors,  trials  and  Providential  disci- 
pline out  of  which  his  character  grew,  and  by  which  it 
was  shaped,  I  have  no  personal  knowledge.    But  such 


27 


knowledge  is  very  helpful  if  not  quite  essential  to  a 
true  conception  and  estimate  of  any  human  character. 
K  we  would  feel  the  full  glory  and  beauty  of  a  sunrise, 
we  must  begin  with  the  earliest  twilight,  and  watch  the 
slow  flight  of  night  and  its  shadows  before  the  coming 
day.  So  if  we  would  measure  the  whole  scope  and 
excellence  of  a  human  character,  we  must  have  seen 
it  in  all  its  processes  of  development,  in  all  its  wrest- 
lings with  sin  and  evil,  in  all  its  periods  of  darkness, 
trial  and  peril,  in  all  its  victories  over  self  and  the 
world.  The  brief  margin  of  Dr.  Porter's  life  which  I 
was  privileged  to  behold,  was  characterized  by  that 
serenity  and  repose  which  mark  the  soul's  autumnal 
maturity,  when  struggle  has  subsided,  storms  are  past, 
and  home  is  near.  But  perhaps  in  this  limitation  of 
view  to  the  few  closing  years,  what  is  lost  in  compre- 
hensiveness may  be  gained  in  clearness  of  vision,  as 
we  see  a  picture  best  when  all  other  objects  are  cov- 
ered. In  the  last  years  of  life  there  is  gathered,  as 
into  a  focus,  the  resultant  of  all  the  spiritual  forces 
which  have  been  working  on  and  moulding  the  charac- 
ter. We  have  there  summed  up  the  total  amount  of 
what  the  whole  life  has  yielded.  As  I  have  looked  at 
Dr.  Porter,  there  was  a  symmetry,  a  roundness,  a  mel- 
lowness which  spoke  with  authority  of  what  his  past 
life  has  been.  Such  a  character  was  never  built  up  in 
a  day.  It  is  a  century  plant.  Its  roots  must  have  run 
far  back  into  childhood  and  infancy.  Its  youth  must 
have  been  sobered  and  sanctified  by  an  earnest  conse- 
cration of  the  whole  life  to  God.    Its  manhood  must 


28 


have  been  one  constant  and  victorious  march  in  the 
path  of  duty.  In  its  progressive  development  it  must 
have  reahzed  the  beautiful  description  of  the  inspired 
Preacher :  "The  path  of  the  just  is  as  the  shining  light 
which  shineth  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day." 

The  first  trait  in  Dr.  Porter's  character,  of  which  I 
would  speak,  is  that  which,  as  I  conceive,  lay  at  the 
foundation  of  all  his  Christian  excellencies, — his  faith. 
Dr.  Porter  .  had  remarkably  strong  and  clear  convic- 
tions of  the  reality  of  things  not  seen.  He  was.  thor- 
oughly persuaded  of  them.  His  thoughts  were  con- 
tinually dwelling  on  them.  He  walked  daily  with  God. 
Prayer  had  become  the  native  tongue  of  his  soul.  He 
looked  forward  to  that  heavenly  life  which  the  Scrip- 
tures promise  and  partially  unfold,  with  a  full  assurance 
of  hope.  There  was  great  simplicity  in  his  faith.  He 
implicitly  trusted  God ;  he  believed  the  Divine  Word  ; 
he  rested  everything  on  the  faithfulness  of  Him  who 
had  promised.  His  faith  was  also  deeply  experimental. 
He  was  assured  of  the  reality  of  divine  things  because 
he  felt  the  power  of  them  in  his  own  heart.  Yet  he 
was,  least  of  all,  a  mystic.  His  faith  was  a  rational 
one.  He  believed  that  religion  was  a  most  reasonable 
thing.  His  own  religion  was  not  founded  in  feeling, 
nor  was  it  left  to  the  caprices  of  impulse ;  but  it  had 
the  assent  of  his  deliberate  judgment,  and  was  always 
controlled  by  it.  Hence  the  even  and  calm  flow  of  his 
religious  experience.  If  he  had  no  ecstacies,  he  had 
no  ebb-tides  of  depression,  doubt,  despair.  It  was  not 
the  least  remarkable  quahty  of  Dr.  Porter's  faith,  that 


29 


it  was  so  completely  and  transparently  sincere.  It 
may  have  seemed  to  some  that  he  was  greatly  aided 
in  his  religious  attainments  by  his  sacred  calling.  K  a 
minister  is  not  supposed  to  be  better  by  nature  than 
other  men,  he  is  at  least  supposed  to  enjoy  far  greater 
facilities  for  growth  in  grace.  And  it  is  doubtless  true 
that  a  minister  is  peculiarly  protected  from  some  sins 
and  temptations  by  his  Christian  office.  The  fact,  too, 
that  religion  is,  in  a  sense,  his  business,  gives  him  pecu- 
liar opportunities  for  exercising  his  Christian  gifts,  and 
developing  his  Christian  graces.  But  no  place  in  this 
world  is  beyond  the  reach  of  spiritual  assailments  and 
perils.  That  which  may  seem  to  be  a  minister's 
strength  has  too  often  proved  the  source  of  his  weak- 
ness and  fall.  The  sins  most  frequently  and  sharply 
rebuked  by  our  Savior,  were  those  of  religious  cant 
and  hypocrisy — sins  which  had  their  strong  hold  in 
the  hearts  of  the  religious  teachers  of  his  time,  and 
which  are  always  especially  dangerous  to  the  piety  of 
those  who,  because  of  their  ofiice,  are  led  to  feel  that 
whatever  they  do  should  wear  some  semblance,  at  least, 
of  religion.  That  Dr.  Porter's  character  should  have 
been  so  free  from  all  religious  affectation  is  a  most 
weighty  testimony  to  the  genuineness  and  depth  of  his 
piety.  In  his  whole  Christian  demeanor  he  was  natural. 
Sincerity  ran  through  the  very  marrow  of  his  being. 
He  was  just  what  he  seemed  to  be — "  an  Israelite  in- 
deed, in  whom  there  was  no  guile."  He  could  no  more 
have  worn  a  mask  or  acted  a  false  part,  than  he  could 
have  told  a  lie.    Hence  the  faithfulness  and  impartial- 


30 


ity  of  his  Christian  dealing  with  all  men.  As  his  con- 
victions of  right  and  duty  were  clear,  so  when  the  fit 
occasion  offered,  they  were  frankly  and  faithfully  given. 
I  look  upon  this  quality  of  Christian  sincerity  which  so 
eminently  distinguished  Dr.  Porter,  as  one  of  the  most 
truly  attractive  and  beautiful  traits  in  his  character. 
It  was  one  source  of  his  moral  power  as  a  preacher, 
and  as  a  man.  He  believed,  and  therefore  spoke.  His 
very  sincerity  made  his  preaching  always  impressive. 
It  compelled  attention,  and  yet  had  a  winning  grace. 
The  truths  of  the  gospel  seemed  clothed  with  a  new 
importance  and  solemnitj^,  as  they  were  uttered  by  his 
guileless  tongue. 

A  second  trait  in  Dr.  Porter's  character  of  which  I 
would  speak,  was  the  singleness  of  his  devotion  tohis  Christian 
work.  As  my  own  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Porter  grew 
more  intimate,  the  impression  which  this  trait  in  him 
made  upon  me,  was  proportionably  increased.  He  was 
not  an  impulsive  or  bustling  man.  There  was  a  calm 
method  in  all  that  he  did.  But  his  whole  heart  and 
mind  was  in  his  work  as  a  Christian  laborer.  And  he 
never  came  to  feel  that  his  work  was  done.  In  his 
eighty-fifth  year,  after  having  served  his  Master  in  the 
Gospel  ministry  for  two  generations,  he  considered  him- 
self just  as  truly  called,  according  to  his  strength  and 
opportunities,  to  engage  in  active  labors  for  Christ,  as  he 
did,  when  in  early  youth  he  gave  himself  to  God.  In 
illustration  of  this,  I  wish  I  were  able  to  tell  you  all 
that  is  treasured  up  in  my  heart  and  memory  pertain- 
ing to  the  relation  which  has  subsisted  between  us 


31 


during  these  last  five  years.  You  know  how  he  re- 
ceived me  at  my  coming ;  as  a  father  receives  a  son. 
Before  my  acceptance  of  your  call,  in  a  letter  to  me, 
he  said :  "  Should  you  come,  I  should  immediately  give 
all  up  into  your  hands."  From  the  day  of  my  ordina- 
tion, he  treated  me  as  the  sole  pastor  of  this  church. 
The  first  word  of  dictation  to  me  never  passed  his  lips. 
I  have  often  heard  it  said,  during  these  five  years,  that 
the  relation  of  a  colleague  is  a  most  delicate  and  trying 
one.  Were  I  to  speak  from  my  own  experience,  I 
should  say  that  no  happier  lot  could  befall  a  young  pas- 
tor than  to  spend  the  first  years  of  his  ministry  in  this 
relation.  But  while  he  thus  imposed  the  responsibili- 
ties of  the  pastoral  ofiice  on  me,  he  did  not,  under  this 
new  state  of  things,  regard  himself  as  relieved  from  all 
further  care  or  interest  in  pastoral  work,  or  from  his 
responsibilities  as  a  Christian  man.  The  relation  be- 
tween us  became  a  living  relation.  He  gave  me  his 
whole  confidence ;  he  always  told  me  all  that  was  in 
his  heart.  He  stood  ready  to  counsel  me,  and  to  render 
such  assistance  in  the  pulpit  as  I  should  need.  And  it 
was  through  the  growing  intimacy  of  this  relation  that 
I  discerned  how  completely  devoted  he  was  to  the  work 
of  winning  souls  to  Christ,  and  of  promoting  the  wel- 
fare of  Zion.  He  loved  this  church  with  the  w^hole 
strength  of  his  being,  and  prayed  and  labored  for  its 
increase  till  the  day  of  his  death.  Several  times,  in 
seasons  of  spiritual  declension  among  us,  have  I  found 
him  deeply  lamenting  oiu'  condition,  and  eagerly  inquir- 
ing what  could  be  done  for  the  revival  of  God's  work. 


/ 

32 


And  whenever  the  Divine  Spirit  seemed  to  be  hovering 
over  us,  and  there  was  an  increasing  solemnity  in  our 
meetings,  I  could  always  gather  it  from  the  state  of  Dr. 
Porter's  mind.  His  soul  was  most  sensitive  to  every 
indication  of  God's  special  presence,  and  was  always  in 
readiness  to  welcome  it.  Until  within  a  brief  period, 
when  he  was  kept  at  home  by  growing  infirmities,  he 
was  a  constant  attendant  upon  all  our  religious  meet- 
ings. Who  of  that  little  company  in  our  Wednesday 
afternoon  prayer  meetings,  will  soon  forget  those  brief 
earnest  addresses  with  which  he  was  wont  to  follow  my 
own  remarks !  What  member  of  our  Sabbath  School 
will  not  long  remember  the  venerable  form  of  that 
teacher  who  esteemed  it  a  privilege  to  labor  in  the 
Lord's  vineyard,  wherever  he  might  do  good,  while  life 
lasted !  And  what  teacher  will  not  long  be  inspired  by 
his  example !  Very  touching  too,  it  was  to  me,  to  witness 
the  part  he  took  in  the  special  meetings  of  last  winter. 
When  the  idea  of  those  meetings  was  first  presented  to 
him,  he  entered  into  it  with  all  his  heart.  The  message 
of  invitation  he  carried  from  house  to  house  through 
quite  a  large  section  of  our  village.  And  how  appro- 
priately, how  afiectionately,  how  feelingly  did  he  speak 
to  us,  whenever  called  to  !  Dr.  Porter  always  responded 
to  whatever  he  esteemed  a  call  of  duty.  It  was  the 
habit  of  his  life  to  do  so.  It  was  only  last  November 
that  he  told  me  he  thought  his  public  work  was  done, 
referring  to  his  work  as  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel.  He 
preached  but  once  after  that,  in  a  sudden  emergency 
which  seemed  to  him  providential.    But  he  never  spoke 


33 


of  his  private  Christian  work  as  done.  I  have  never 
seen  him  more  actively  engaged  and  interested  in  such 
work  than  he  was  last  spring,  as  member  of  the  com- 
mittee appointed  by  the  church  for  parish  visitation 
and  tract  distribution.  His  place  on  that  committee  is 
now  to  be  filled.  Rarely  has  a  life  so  long,  been  so  act- 
ive to  its  close.  Most  beautifully  significant  of  it  was 
that  coincidence  by  which  it  happened  that  when  he 
last  descended  from  this  pulpit,  he  had  just  offered  a 
closing  prayer,  and  pronounced  upon  us  the  Divine 
blessing.  And  thus,  still  a  worker  for  God,  he  was 
called  away.  Death 

"  found  him  on  the  field, 

A  veteran  slumbering  on  his  arms, 
Beneath  his  red-cross  shield." 

Any  notice  of  Dr.  Porter's  character  would  be  very 
incomplete,  which  did  not  take  into  view  his  charity. 
Christian  love  was  the  soul  of  his  religion,  and  the 
ruling  feature  of  his  life.  His  mind  was  liberal ;  his 
heart  was  enlarged.  He  judged  the  conduct  of  others 
as  favorably  and  tenderly  as  was  possible.  So  habitual 
was  this  with  him  that  I  sometimes  queried,  whether, 
looking  through  the  mirror  of  his  own  pure  and  sin- 
cere nature,  he  did  not  fail  to  take  into  account  all  the 
vicious  elements  of  humanity.  But  it  was  not  so.  Dr. 
Porter  knew  the  human  heart.  He  thoroughly  be- 
lieved in  its  native  depravity  and  deceitfulness.  But 
his  charitable  disposition  always  inclined  him  to  the 
more  favorable  view  of  character  and  conduct.  I  do 
5 


34 


not  remember  ever  to  have  heard  him  utter  a  harsh 
judgment.  He  spoke  freely  of  the  actions  of  men,  but 
rarely  of  their  motives ;  these  he  left  in  the  hands  of 
the  great  Searcher  of  hearts.  Dr.  Porter  was  naturally 
trustful  and  unsuspicious.  He  cherished  no  resent- 
ments. He  forgave  all  injuries.  As  much  as  lay  in 
him,  he  lived  peaceably  with  all  men.  He  avenged 
not  himself,  but  overcame  evil  with  good. 

I  cannot  close  this  estimate  of  Dr.  Porter  without 
adverting  to  some  features  of  his  life,  as  he  appeared 
among  us  during  these  late  years.  "Mark  the  perfect 
man,  and  behold  the  upright,  for  the  end  of  that  man 
is  peace."  Dr.  Porter's  last  days  were  happy  days. 
The  retrospect  of  his  long  life  was  pleasant  to  him.  It 
contained  no  great  wrongs,  no  sad  mistakes,  to  cast 
their  shadows  over  his  old  age.  I  never  heard  him  give 
expression  to  any  regrets.  He  had  a  conscience  void 
of  offence  toward  God  and  toward  man.  He  was 
always  cheerful.  Life  to  the  last  had  a  relish  for  him. 
He  enjoyed  the  society  of  his  family  and  friends ;  took 
great  pleasure  in  reading ;  rejoiced  in  every  opportu- 
nity of  doing  good..  Dr.  Porter  scarcely  knew  what 
it  is  to  be  old.  His  mind  continued  active  and  vigor- 
ous. His  feelings  were  fresh  and  exuberant.  He 
lost  none  of  his  interest  in  social  life,  or  in  public  affairs. 
Yet  all  the  while  his  affections  were  fixed  on  things 
above.  He  looked  forward  to  death  as  an  event  which 
was  near  at  hand  ;  and  he  was  ready  to  depart  and  be 
with  Christ.  He  talked  about  his  decease  with  cheer- 
fulness, and  with  a  growing  anticipation  and  eagerness. 


35 


As  he  drew  near  to  the  grave,  his  mind  was  kept  in 
perfect  peace,  being  stayed  on  God  in  the  hopes  of  the 
Gospel.  Those  heavenly  blessings  which  he  had  so 
many  times  held  out  to  the  faith  of  others,  now  shone 
down  upon  his  own  soul  with  a  crescent  brightness,  like 
stars  in  the  evening  sky.    And  so  he  fell  asleep. 

But  Dr.  Porter's  last  days  were  not  only  happy,  they 
were  beautiful.  Their  very  happiness  and  peacefulness 
helped  to  make  them  so.  It  was  beautiful  to  see  him 
walk  our  streets,  with  form  erect  and  step  elastic,  as  if 
endowed  with  immortal  youth.  It  was  beautiful  to  see 
him  in  the  intercourse  of  his  home,  affectionate,  simple, 
and  playful  as  a  child.  Beautiful,  to  see  him  visit  from 
house  to  house,  entering  with  renewed  interest,  as  he 
laid  the  heavier  burdens  of  the  pastorate  aside,  into 
domestic  cares,  and  trials,  and  joys ;  speaking  a  word  in 
season,  and  leaving  everywhere  his  benediction  of  peace. 
Beautiful  it  was,  to  see  him,  each  Sabbath  day,  sitting  in 
his  accustomed  place  in  this  house  of  God,  so  humble, 
so  reverent,  so  quick  to  hear,  his  face  shining  sometimes 
"  as  it  had  been  the  face  of  an  angel." 

Dr.  Porter,  more  than  any  other  man  I  ever  knew, 
realized  my  ideal  of  the  Old  Testament  saint.  He  pos- 
sessed to  a  remarkable  degree  the  Old  Testament  vir- 
tues— the  faith  of  Abraham,  the  meekness  of  Moses,  the 
piety  of  Samuel,  the  patience  of  Job.  And  his  life,  in 
its  close,  filled  out  the  picture,  which  the  Old  Testa- 
ment is  wont  to  draw,  of  the  felicity  of  the  righteous. 
"  Happy  is  the  man  that  findeth  wisdom.  Length  of 
days  is  in  her  right  hand.    Her  ways  are  ways  of  pleas- 


36 


antness,  and  all  her  paths  are  peace."  "  The  righteous 
shall  nourish  like  the  palm  tree ;  he  shall  grow  like  a 
cedar  in  Lebanon.  Those  that  be  planted  in  the  house 
of  the  Lord,  shall  flourish  in  the  courts  of  our  God. 
They  shall  still  bring  forth  fruit  in  old  age."  "  Blessed 
is  the  man  that  walketh  not  in  the  counsel  of  the  un- 
godly, nor  standeth  in  the  way  of  sinnersj  nor  sitteth  in 
the  seat  of  the  scornful.  But  his  delight  is  in  the  law 
of  the  Lord,  and  in  his  law  doth  he  meditate  day  and 
night.  And  he  shall  be  like  a  tree  planted  by  the 
rivers  of  water,  that  bringeth  forth  his  fruit  in  his  sea- 
son ;  his  leaf  also  shall  not  wither,  and  whatsoever  he 
doeth  shall  prosper." 

Yet  after  all,  a  true  conception  of  Dr.  Porter's  piety 
requires  us  to  supplement  the  Old  Testament  with  the 
New.  "Godliness  hath  promise  not  only  of  the  life 
that  now  is,  but  of  that  which  is  to  come."  In  Dr.  Por- 
ter's faith  was  combined  the  faith  of  Abraham  and  the 
faith  of  Paul.  He  could  say  with  the  Apostle — "for 
we  know  that,  if  our  earthly  house  of  this  tabernacle 
were  dissolved,  we  have  a  building  of  God,  a  house  not 
made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens.  For  we  that 
are  in  this  tabernacle  do  groan,  being  burdened ;  not 
that  we  would  be  unclothed,  but  clothed  upon,  that 
mortality  might  be  swallowed  up  of  life." 

Dr.  Porter's  whole  character  was  one  of  singular 
beauty.  It  not  only  had  great  excellencies,  it  was  also 
free  from  the  faults  and  blemishes  which  mar  the  beauty 
of  so  many  human  characters.  Such  symmetry  was 
there  about  him,  that  it  was  difficult  sometimes  to  de- 


37 


tect  the  secret  of  that  which  made  him  appear  so  lovely. 
Yet  his  character  was  one  of  positive  strength.  It  was 
built  out  of  the  solid  granite  of  conviction,  and  princi- 
ple, and  faith  in  God.  His  house  was  founded  upon  a 
rock.  During  a  long  life  the  rains  descended  upon  it, 
and  the  winds  beat  against  it,  but  it  fell  not ;  for  it  was 
founded  upon  a  Bock.  It  has  been  our  blessed  privilege, 
my  hearers,  to  see  that  house  in  its  old  age  ;  the  rains 
over,  the  winds  stilled,  the  clouds  breaking  away,  the 
light  of  heaven  shining  on  it.  The  earthly  part  of  it 
was  indeed  dissolving ;  the  outward  man  was  perish- 
ing; but  the  inward  man  was  being  renewed  day  by 
day.  Beautiful  was  such  a  house,  though  falling  out- 
wardly into  decay ;  beautiful  was  the  evening  of  such 
a  life,  so  serene  and  starry.  By  that  life,  he  being  dead 
yet  speaketh.  He  speaks  to  the  old  who  are  soon  to 
follow  him.  He  speaks  to  the  young  before  whom  life 
still  opens.  And  the  question  which  comes  to  us  all,  as 
a  voice  from  his  grave,  is :  on  tvhat  is  thy  house  founded? 


SERMOISr, 

BY 

Horace  Bushnell,  d.  d. 


SERMON. 


Psalm  71:  9. — "Cast  me  not  oft' iii  the  time  of  old  age:  forsake 
me  not  when  my  strength  faileth." 

Strength  must  fail — that  is  the  condition  of  age — 
and  how  often  does  it  fail,  morally  as  well  as  physically ; 
as  if  the  decayed  and  broken  old  man  were  really  for- 
saken of  God,  just  now  when  he  is  most  wanting  God's 
abiding  presence  and  supporting  help.  It  is  so,  many 
times,  in  cases  where  there  was  supposed  to  be,  and 
apparently  was,  a  fair  show  of  Christian  character. 
The  picture  is  a  very  sad  one,  and  one  that  moves  our 
pity  the  more  deeply  that  nothmg  is  left  any  longer  to 
move  our  respect. 

Thus  we  too  commonly  see  that  the  man  who  is  be- 
coming old  and  growing  conscious  of  loss,  takes  on  airs 
of  smartness  to  rally  his  powers ;  but  alas,  they  will 
not  answer,  or  thinking  foolishly  that  they  do,  others 
will  see  that  they  do  not.  By  and  by  he  is  obliged  to 
admit,  in  a  dolorous  way,  that  he  w'earies  easily,  and 
scolds  his  vigor,  for  the  giving  out  in  which  it  deserts 
him.  He  is  secretly  chafed  by  the  discovery  that  he 
6 


42 


cannot  do  anything  in  such  a  gale  of  impulse  as  he 
used  to  have  upon  him.  Purpose  flags,  intensity  slack- 
ens, food  has  a  dull  relish,  and  sleep  is  unrefreshing  or 
even  wearisome.  His  memory  crumbles,  his  sight 
grows  dim,  his  hearing  thick,  or  probably  enough  all 
these  tokens  come  upon  him  together.  His  bones  are 
heavy  and  troubled  by  rheumatic  twinges.  His  step, 
that  began  to  be  slowed,  is  now  becoming  tremulous ; 
there  are  quavers  too  and  cracks  in  his  voice — alas ! 
he  is  a  broken,  decrepid  old  man. 

Now  any  or  all  these  changes  might  come  upon  him 
only  to  make  him  a  happy,  much  honored  and  even  envi- 
able man;  but  prepared  for  them  by  no  right  discipline 
or  character,  he  is  as  far  from  that  as  possible.  He  is  even 
broken  morally  more  than  he  is  in  his  body.  All  the 
perverse  tempers  that  he  used  to  hold  in  check,  but  that 
were  never  extirpated,  are  now  loosed,  having  nothing 
left  to  hold  them  in  check  longer.  As  the  will-force  slack- 
ens, the  habit-force  takes  undivided  sway,  so  that  in  all 
bad  points  he  appears  to  be  worse,  and  not  better  than  he 
was.  He  is  more  easily  moved  by  jealousy — -jealous  of 
others  who  are  getting  before  him  in  business,  or  above 
him  in  standing ;  if  he  is  a  pastor  among  his  flock,  jealous 
of  his  flock,  when  some  other  is  praised,  or  grows  popular; 
if  he  is  rich,  jealous  not  unlikely  of  his  children.  His 
infirmities  make  him  peevish.  If  he  was  a  little  cov- 
etous, his  dim  eye  twinkles  at  the  mere  chance  of  gain, 
and  his  charities  are  all  shut  in.  He  is  irritable,  unrea- 
sonable, a  torment  in  this  way  to  his  friends,  and  quite 
as  much  to  himself    If  he  did  not  pray,  his  tempers 


43 


now  forbid  the  attempt  when  his  judgment  rcciiiires  it. 
If  he  used  to  pray,  he  now  prays  without  any  sense  of 
benefit,  and  as  one  forsaken  of  God.  Miserable,  truly 
helpless,  hopeless  old  man !  without  serenity  or  peace, 
and  watching  for  his  death  only  as  he  watches  for  an 
enemy. 

The  picture  is,  alas !  too  often  seen — seen  too  often, 
I  must  add,  in  the  case  of  men  reputedly  Christian. 
And  such  was  the  picture  I  conceive  that  our  Psalmist 
had  in  view  when  he  prayed,  "  Cast  me  not  off  in  the 
time  of  old  age,  forsake  me  not  when  my  strength 
faileth."  He  wanted  a  good  and  ripe  old  age,  a  divinely 
sanctified  habit,  supported  by  the  confidence  of  God's 
favor  and  friendship.  He  wanted  all  the  peace 
good  tempers  bring;  to  be  loving  and  lovely,  and 
pure,  and  true ;  so  that  if  his  body  should  crumble  his 
mind  would  not,  or  so  that  if  his  mind  should  crumble 
his  heart  should  be  rested  in  peace ;  so  that  if  his  eye 
should  be  dim,  or  his  ear  report  no  sound,  he  could  still 
go  forth  speaking  benedictions  on  his  friends,  and  beam- 
ing testimonies  unspoken,  from  the  manifest  sweetness 
and  serenity  of  his  closing  days. 

In  this  view,  it  becomes  a  very  great  question  for  us 
all,  how  we  shall  obtain  the  blessing  of  a  good  and  right 
old  age?    On  this  point  let  me  offer  a  few  suggestions. 

And  one  great  law  to  be  considered  is,  that  it  is  not 
what  we  get,  but  what  we  are,  that  provides  a  happy, 
well- conditioned  old  age.    As  we  cannot  carry  what 


44 

wc  get  with  us  when  we  go  hence,  so  it  is  about  equally 
difficult  to  carry  on  down  to  old  age,  in  a  manner  to 
get  much  from  it,  either  money,  or  admiration,  or  a 
name,  unless  we  carry  a  good,  great  soul  with  it ;  and 
upon  that  everything  depends.  The  very  eagerness  of 
any  getting  process  grows,  at  last,  into  a  kind  of  bad 
possession,  that  even  makes  a  torment  of  success.  The 
power  that  was  gotten,  now  that  strength  faileth,  be- 
comes a  poor,  lame  caricature ;  the  admiration  begets 
jealousy,  the  money  that  cannot  sufficiently  bless,  be- 
gets peevishness.  Nothing,  in  short,  makes  a  happy 
old  age  but  to  be,  in  ourselves,  what  makes  well-being 
possible. 

For  a  similar  reason  we  must,  as  Christian  men,  de- 
pend more  on  our  habits  and  tempers  than  we  do  on 
our  opinions,  or  the  self-control  of  our  will.  Eight 
opinions  will  even  make  a  man  more  miserable,  if  he 
has  not  lived  them  out  thoroughly  enough  to  get  them 
converted  into  dispositions — lingering  round  him  as 
shadows  and  ghosts  of  reality,  that  only  mock  his 
peace  and  cannot  even  support  his  prayers.  So  if  he 
has  had  it  for  his  religion  to  merely  keep  himself  in 
a  respectable  show,  by  the  self-controlling  force  of  his 
will,  he  will  be  left,  when  that  force  slackens,  with  all 
his  half-regulated  tempers  on  hand,  to  run  riot  in  him 
and  trample  his  peace.  What  he  wanted  was  to  get  heav- 
enly tempers  bedded  in  right  habit, — able,  in  that  man- 
ner, to  reign  well  when  his  will  ceases  to  reign.  The 
peace  of  a  good  old  man  belongs  to  what  is  inmost  in 


45 


his  habit — the  truth  of  his  feehng,  the  himinons  glory 
of  his  faith,  the  loving  sweetness  of  his  dispositions. 

The  same  is  true  again  of  what  is  called  holy  princi- 
ple ;  it  must  be  principle  ingrained  by  the  sway  it  has 
maintained  over  the  life.  Quite  old  men  do  sometimes 
take  up  new  principles,  but  the  difficulty  is  that  the 
new  principles  cannot  sufficiently  take  up  them.  Holy 
principles  want  to  be  so  fastened  and  domiciliated  in 
the  soul  that  we  no  longer  even  assent  to  them,  but 
have  them  reigning  by  their  own  determinations,  even 
as  good  subjects  bow  to  the  laws  of  the  state  without 
so  much  as  remembering  that  they  ever  chose  to  obey. 
Having  reached  this  point  by  the  practice  of  a  right- 
eous life,  the  old  man  stands  a  pillar,  because  right 
principle  has  made  him  a  pillar.  In  this  principle,  long 
held,  his  nature  itself  has  become  harmonic  and  steady, 
and  when  he  breaks  there  is  a  kind  of  sovereign  order 
in  him  that  cannot  break.  When  his  memory  gives 
way,  as  it  often  does,  he  does  not  have  to  remember, 
and  keep  right  by  continual  self-recollection ;  for  there 
is  a  right  keeping  in  him  that  goes  on  of  itself  There 
is  dignity,  order,  and  sweetness  in  him,  all  the  more 
evident,  that  it  stays  by  even  in  his  weakness,  flowing 
as  serenely  as  fair  weather,  even  in  decrepitude  itself. 

Again,  the  kind  of  piety  wanted  is  rather  a  close 
habit  of  friendship  with  God,  than  a  compost  of  frames 
and  emotional  excitements.  The  flame  element  in 
souls  commonly  runs  low  in  old  age,  and  an  old  man 
trying  to  be  raised  in  frames  and  ecstasies,  or  seeming 
to  think  that  he  is,  makes  a  feeble,  half-absurd  figure. 


46 

What  we  now  expect  of  him  is  a  calm  sobriety,  not  the 
tempests  of  emotional  excitation.  But  if  the  old  man 
has  grown  old  in  God's  friendship,  learned  to  have  God 
nigh,  and  live  in  the  sense  of  his  society,  if  he  has  been 
true  and  faithful,  and  has  daily  had  the  sunrise  of  his 
mind  in  the  testimony  that  he  pleases  God,  a  kind  of 
holy  custom  settles  on  his  feeling,  and  keeps  the  embers 
of  his  life  in  a  glow,  when  the  flames  of  emotion  have 
subsided.  As  he  sits  a  patriarch  in  his  chair,  so  his 
mind  sits  serenely  in  the  chair  of  his  customary  piety. 
And  he  worships  serenely,  leaning  on  the  top  of  his 
staff,  as  one  whose  piety,  grown  old  in  habit,  is  fixedly 
rested  on  God.  He  thinks  no  more  of  his  frames, 
watches  them  no  more.  Holy  custom  is  the  frame  that 
keeps  him  and  he  wants  no  other. 

Again,  it  is  partly  an  inference  from  all  that  has  been 
said,  and  also  a  truth  standing  in  its  own  evidence,  that 
the  best  old  age  is  possible  only  when  the  Christian  life 
begins  early.  Here,  in  fact,  is  one  of  the  principal  de- 
lusions of  men,  that  when  they  are  doing  so  many 
things  to  provide  for  the  comfort  and  peace  of  old  age, 
they  are  yet  so  commonly  postponing  the  calls  of  reli- 
gion to  the  time  of  middle  life,  or  even  to  the  arrival 
of  age,  when  their  work  of  enterprise  will  be  ended.  A 
late-born  piety  they  think  will  be  sufficient.  They 
expect  to  waste  the  fine  possibilities  of  youth,  and  yet 
sufier  no  loss.  There  could  not  be  a  sadder  mistake. 
Doubtless  a  very  old  man  may  be  converted,  but  he  also 
may  not.  And  if  he  is,  the  new  nature  will  not  easily 
become  a  second  nature  in  him.    He  will  be  an  old  man 


47 


with  only  a  young  piety — strengthened  by  no  experi- 
ence, blurred  and  baffled  in  everything  by  his  old  blind 
habits,  struggling  vainly  to  keep  his  new  beginnings 
good,  groping  and  stumbling  in  them,  because  he  has 
no  acquaintance  with  God  to  steady  his  practice.  His 
feeling  is  bronzed  by  his  old  religious  neglect,  his  mo- 
tives are  married  to  a  persistently  selfish  habit,  and  his 
very  prayers,  for  want  of  any  skill  in  prayer,  become 
a  kind  of  peevishness.  Only  the  piety  that  begins  in 
childhood,  and  ripens  with  manhood,  and  flows  along 
onward  in  the  current  of  years,  can  duly  saturate  and 
shape  the  soul's  habit.  This  early  kind  of  i)iety 
becomes  at  last  the  man  himself,  so  to  speak — a  kind 
of  ingrown  property,  that  flavors  his  life-principle  itself 
The  happy,  right  old  man,  therefore — this  let  every 
youth  remember —  is  connnonly  the  right  young  man 
grown  old  in  God — he  and  no  other.  "  The  child  is 
father  of  the  man,"  in  a  much  deeper  and  more  Chris- 
tian sense  than  the  poet  even  seems  to  have  imagined. 

Once  more,  it  makes  a  very  great  difierence  as  re- 
gards the  kind  of  old  age  at  which  we  arrive,  by  what 
kind  of  engagement  we  make  our  approach  to  it.  If 
we  become  old  simply  by  the  going  on  of  the  sun,  and 
not  by  any  going  on  of  life  in  works  of  industry  and 
duty,  our  state  of  age  will  not  be  either  Christian,  or 
good,  save  in  the  sense  that  we  are  permitted  a  possible 
hope  of  salvation  at  the  end  of  it.  The  powers  settle 
gracefLdly  into  old  age,  only  when  we  come  to  it  in  the 
harness  of  good  endeavor.  AVliat  we  call  wearing  out 
in  good,  is  only  the  way  to  wear  in  good  ;  so  that  when 


48 

the  forces  of  action  are  spent,  the  soul  is  packed  brim- 
full  of  good,  and  in  that  good  finds  the  equilibrium  of 
its  rest.  A  really  fine  old  age  is  a  hall  into  which  the 
powers  have  come  to  hang  up  their  armor,  and  look  on 
it  with  a  brave  strong  heart,  because  there  has  been 
something  bravely  and  well  done.  The  soul  is  strong 
in  righteousness  because  it  has  been  suffering  and  fight- 
ing for  righteousness  sake.  But  where  the  transition 
to  age  is  made  through  self-indulgence,  indolence,  or  a 
mere  idle  looking  on,  the  state  of  age  will  be  the  rust  of 
the  man,  nothing  more.  The  residuum  of  a  chaffy  life  is 
only  chaff.  Even  if  the  man  be  a  Christian,  he  will  yet 
be  a  chaffy  Christian,  unsolid,  unregulated,  weak  and  dry. 
Having  so  long  been  doing  nothing  which  Christ  lays 
it  upon  him  to  do,  he  will  finish  his  course  in  becoming 
a  kind  of  Christian  nothing  to  himself — unilluminated, 
without  zest,  having  nothing  to  remember,  and  waiting 
for  death  more  as  an  enemy  than  as  a  friend.  He 
can  not  pray,  "forsake  me  not  when  my  strength 
faileth,"  for  he  was  not  using  his  strength  for  God  when 
he  had  it.  The  really  right  old  man  is  one  who  has 
been  strenuously  right  before,  one  who  can  say  with 
David,  in  this  same  chapter,  "0  God,  thou  hast  taught 
me  from  my  youth,  and  hitherto  have  I  declared  thy 
wondrous  works."  "  Hitherto,"  he  says,  down  to  this 
time,  and  he  begins  to  fear,  as  the  sense  of  age  comes 
on,  that  he  may  give  out  before  his  great  life-purpose 
is  accomplished;  therefore  he  prays  again,  "Now  also, 
when  I  am  old  and  gray-headed,  0  God,  forsake  me 
not ;  until  I  have  showed  thy  strength  unto  this  genera- 


49 


tion,  and  thy  power  to  every  one  that  is  to  come." 
What  shall  come,  but  a  right  and  strong  old  age,  pass- 
ing into  it  by  a  transition  so  manfully  strenuous  ?  The 
transition  will  not  commonly  be  made  in  a  day,  or  even 
in  a  single  year,  but  the  high  engagements  will  be  still 
in  hand,  and  the  life  will  be  lapsing  gradually  into  the 
exhausted  or  decrepid  state,  still  keyed  as  it  has  been 
before,  and  resting  grandly  in  that  key. 

These  thoughts  I  have  sketched,  to  show  something 
of  the  manner  in  which,  and  only  in  which,  a  right  and 
happy  old  age  is  prepared.  Probably  there  is  not  one 
of  you,  not  even  the  youngest,  who  does  not  sometimes 
glance  along  down  his  future,  asking  what  kind  of  fig- 
ure he  will  make  when  the  time  of  old  age  is  come. 
You  all  desire  long  life,  and  just  as  much  desire  a  long 
life  crowned  with  peace.  Be  not  insensible,  then,  to 
the  immense  significance  of  the  suggestions  I  have  now 
made. 

And  that  you  may  be  the  more  feelingly  impressed 
with  their  truth,  and  the  value  of  their  truth,  let  me 
go  on  to  show  you  their  embodiment  in  a  shape  more 
convincing  than  words;  namely,  in  the  worthy  and  great 
character  of  your  late  venerable  father  and  pastor.  I  do 
not  propose,  at  this  time,  an  obituary  sketch  of  his  life,  in 
the  facts  and  dates  that  marked  its  progress ;  this  I  pre- 
sume has  been  sufficiently  done  already,  by  your  young 
surviving  pastor,  in  the  commemorative  discourse  he  has 
already  given.  He  also  himself,  very  modestly  and  beau- 
tifully recited  the  facts  of  his  life  and  ministry,  in  his 
7 


50 


V 


Half-Century  sermon.  What  I  wish  more  especially  to 
do  on  the  present  occasion  is  to  sketch,  if  I  can,  his 
character ;  and  above  all,  its  principal  distinction,  as 
exhibited  and  crowned  by  his  truly  great  old  age — a 
character  which  is  not  easily  written,  and  I  fear  never 
can  be,  so  as  worthily  to  present  the  picture. 

Two  weeks  ago.  Dr.  Porter,  your  pastor,  closed  his 
venerable  life,  at  the  very  advanced  age  of  nearly 
eighty-five  years.  Here  he  was  born  and  brought  up, 
and  here  he  served  in  the  ministry  of  God  for  sixty 
years,  supported,  and  only  more  and  more  nearly  re- 
placed by  a  much  beloved  colleague,  in  the  latter  years 
of  his  life.  He  looked  out  from  his  window  and  his 
walks  on  the  glorious  rich  landscape  of  the  Farmington 
valley,  and  watched  its  changing  moods  and  phases 
from  childhood  onward  to  his  dying  day,  freshened 
always  in  his  feeling  by  the  picture,  and  becoming  a 
good  type  of  it,  in  the  breadth  and  holy  quiet  of  his 
own  bosom.  He  was  known  so  well  by  his  flock  that 
only  a  half-dozen  knew  when  he  began  to  be  known. 
Indeed,  if  he  ever  threw  a  shade  of  doubt  upon  any 
word  of  Scripture,  it  was  done  bv  showing  that  a 
prophet  can  possibly  have  honor  in  his  own  country. 
And  yet  it  was  not  honor,  exactly,  that  you  learned  to 
pay  him,  but  something  deeper  and  closer  to  necessity. 
We  do  not  so  much  honor  our  heads  as  accept  them, 
and  let  them  go  through  our  body ;  giving  dear  wel- 
come to  what  they  think,  contrive,  impel  in  our  motions 
— all  the  benefits  tliey  propose,  all  the  configurations 


51 


of  body,  and  feeling,  and  life  in  which  their  sway  is 
exerted.  If  we  call  it  honor  that  we  pay  them,  we 
only  speak  in  a  figure ;  the  real  truth  of  which  is  that 
they  go  through  us  and  pervade  us  in  the  most  occult 
and  inmost  secretions  of  our  bodily  and  mental  life. 
So  he  came  into  the  eyes  of  your  childhood  as  a  child, 
and  began  to  do  you  good  thus  early;  for  an  excellent 
Christian  man,  who  had  been  his  playmate  here  in 
childhood,  left  it  as  one  of  his  acknowledgments  that 
he  owed  his  beginnings  in  the  Christian  life  to  the  con- 
versations of  Noah  Porter,  the  child,  when  he  was  but 
nine  years  old.  So  he  grew  up  with  you  as  you  grew, 
went  through  you  week  by  week  and  year  by  year  in  his 
teachings,  and  you  took  him  pervasively ;  till  he  came 
to  be  so  deeply  ingrown  that  Farmington  was  Dr.  Porter 
and  Dr.  Porter  Farmington,  and  he  could  not  be  gotten 
out  of  your  nature  now,  save  by  a  decomposition  of  your 
substance.  What  immense  worth  and  wisdom  it  required 
in  him  to  win  such  a  place  among  his  townsmen,  it  is 
not  difficult  to  perceive.  How  often  would  a  mere  slack- 
ness in  duty,  a  very  little  bad  passion,  a  few  grains  of 
nonsense  or  conceit,  have  raised  the  familiars  of  his 
childhood  against  him !  But  he  grew  steadily  out  upon 
you,  and  so  grew  steadily  into  you,  neither  you  nor 
he  scarce  knowing  how ;  childhood  passing  into  youth, 
youth  into  manhood,  and  manhood  into  old  age ;  so 
that  when  his  working  day  was  ended,  he  stood  a  ripe 
old  man,  complete  in  character — by  that  working  still, 
so  pervasively  that  you  scarcely  felt  the  outward  cessa- 
tion of  his  work. 


Years  before  his  death  disabihties  began  to  come 
upon  him,  such  as  would  have  quite  unstrung  most  men 
— partial  deafness,  partial  blindness,  a  touch  of  para- 
l3^sis ;  but  it  was  beautiful  to  see  how  his  character 
stood  by,  hke  the  bones  in  his  body,  and  supported 
everything  in  a  firm  equilibrium.  More  by  habit  than 
by  will,  he  held  on,  with  what  force  was  left  him,  upon 
his  old  engagements  and  duties,  giving  out  the  heat 
that  was  left  in  his  embers,  calling  the  youth,  striving 
with  his  people  in  their  prayers,  talking  or  expounding, 
when  he  could  not  read  a  manuscript,  helping,  as  he 
could,  his  young  colleague,  and  drawing  the  people 
afiectionately  toward  him ;  just  as  truly  himself,  in  all 
inmost  character,  as  if  no  infirmities  had  come. 

Some  might  think  that  he  was  steadied  by  his  naturally 
firm,  clear  intellect,  but  it  would  be  quite  as  true  to  say 
that  his  intellect  was  steadied  by  the  moral  equilibrium 
of  his  habit.  There  was,  it  was  true,  no  gustiness  or 
tempest-force  in  his  natural  character  that  could  spring 
the  equilibrium  of  his  mind ;  but  how  many  such  there 
are  who  get  no  balance  and  hold  nothing  steadily,  just 
because  they  have  no  springs  of  impulse,  and  take  to 
nothing  with  sufiicient  appetite  to  be  fastened  by  it ! 
He  was  not  a  brilliant  man,  as  we  commonly  speak ; 
there  was  nothing  sensational  in  his  demonstrations ; 
but  there  was  a  vast  amount  of  food  in  him,  and  a 
deeply-toned  fervor  of  enthusiasm  that  provoked  a  solid 
appetite  in  his  hearers.  His  sermons  represented  his 
industry  and  his  profound  love  of  truth.  He  may  have 
written  a  poor  sermon,  but  I  never  heard  one  from 


53 


him.  Indeed,  I  have  many  times  felt  that,  if  a  trne 
average  could  be  cast,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  fix  on 
any  other  preacher  of  his  time  whose  average  stood 
higher.  If  he  did  not  soar,  there  was  neverthless  a 
capacity  visible  to  get  on  Avith  something,  to  add,  to 
work  out,  to  incite,  bring  forward  and  maintain  a  living 
motion.  His  argument  was  thoroughgoing,  solid,  and 
richly  imbued  with  experience.  He  launched  his  ser- 
mons as  they  launch  ships — heavy-timbered,  close-built, 
having  the  seams  well  calked;  ready  thus  for  the 
water,  and  pitching  deliberately  in  as  by  gravity,  but 
never  going  under. 

His  piety  worked  very  much  like  his  mind  ;  moving 
in  weight,  and  having,  as  it  were,  a  law  of  indivertible 
progress  in  itself  It  was  experimental,  but  not  fantas- 
tic or  moody.  It  was  clear  of  all  cant,  and  bore  no 
look  of  sanctimony.  He  loved  ancient  things,  and 
especially  ancient  goodness,  which  had  a  great  deal 
more  power  over  him  than  ancient  thinking.  All  men 
he  knew  could  mistake,  but  goodness  could  not  be  less 
than  good ;  and  he  loved  to  be  drawn  very  closely  to 
it  and  to  God,  by  the  study  of  its  best  examples.  He 
wanted  to  know  how  they  came,  and  if  there  was  a 
plain  mixture  of  error  from  the  head,  he  wanted  to 
find,  if  possible,  what  the  truth  was  out  of  which  they 
got  their  spring.  God  was  the  soul  to  him  of  all  truth, 
and  truth  was  practical,  in  that  it  had  a  soul  and  could 
also  beget  a  soul.  He  sought  to  make  God  great,  as 
being  great  in  love,  and  the  life-giving  power  of  love, 
not  as  being  at  the  head  of  some  great  theologic  sys- 


54 


tern  of  abstractions.  He  did  not  work  speculation-wise, 
though  he  had  abundant  reasons  always  to  support  him 
in  his  subjects.  He  began  as  a  Calvinist,  and  he  died, 
I  suppose,  thinking  himself  a  Calvinist;  as  in  some 
duly  qualified  sense  he  certainly  was.  But  he  maps  a 
large  transition  in  his  noble  Half-Century  sermon,  that 
shows  how  willing  he  was  to  make  advances,  if  they 
could  only  be  made  in  allegiance  to  truth.  I  also  re- 
member to  have  heard  him  say,  not  many  months  be- 
fore his  death,  that  he  was  coming  somehow  to  look  on 
a  good  many  things  differently  from  what  he  once  did. 
He  was  ready  always  to  see  things  differently,  and  no 
word  of  man,  however  sanctified  by  custom,  held  him 
for  one  minute,  after  he  saw  it  not  to  be  true.  What- 
ever, therefore,  he  may  have  said  or  thought  of  himself 
as  related  to  his  beginnings  under  Calvin,  I  think  it 
even  the  best  and  truest  tribute  for  him,  to  say  that  he 
died,  and  was  more  and  more  concerned  to  die,  a  Chris- 
tian. He  clung  to  the  gospel  as  God's  very  truth,  and 
could  not  sufficiently  magnify  the  Christ  of  his  faith ; 
Christ  crucified,  offered  up  for  sin,  the  justifying  grace 
of  God  in  that  manner  for  lost  man.  His  very  mind 
was  flavored  by  the  cross  of  his  Lord,  and  the  love  be- 
gotten by  it  both  to  God  and  man.  In  this  love  he 
was  set  on  from  his  earliest  years,  wanting  always  to 
know  more  of  it,  even  the  most  possible. 

Now,  in  every  one  of  the  traits  I  have  sketched  he 
was  only  writing,  so  to  speak,  the  introduction  to  his 
very  peculiar  and  really  sublime  old  age.  The  grand 
distinction  of  it  was,  and  I  know  not  any  example  to 


55 


match  it,  that  he  kept  his  windows  open  to  the  last, 
wiUing  to  know  anything  possible  to  be  known,  afraid 
of  nothing  that  could  bring  just  evidence.  He  kept 
up  with  the  times.  To  help  the  blur  of  his  sight,  he 
used  a  large  magnifying  lens,  holding  it  by  the  handle ; 
and  by  help  of  this,  he  had  slowly  pushed  his  way, 
sentence  by  sentence,  through  the  lately  published  vol- 
ume, Ecce  Homo,  even  before  it  was  issued  from  the 
American  press.  Not  satisfied,  he  resumed  his  task 
and  did  the  same  again.  And  then,  to  make  sure  of 
his  judgment,  and  his  largely  qualified  approval,  he 
did  the  same  a  third  time.  There  was  no  single 
grain  of  radicalism  in  his  personal  temperament.  He 
was  naturally  conservative  and  cautious.  He  only  did 
not  want  his  ship  anchored,  but  to  keep  his  sail  still  up, 
steering  carefully  on  by  the  Bible  charts  and  the  needle 
of  a  polarized  experience.  Loving  liberty,  he  loathed 
liberalism ;  forbidden  thus  to  be  either  a  bigot  or  a 
loose  adventurer — avoiding  in  this  manner  the  two  op- 
posite infirmities  of  age ;  that  of  an  old  man  who  has 
played  fast  and  loose  with  truth  so  long  that  he  goes  to 
pieces  in  piteous  weakness,  having  no  faith  left  to  hold 
him  together;  and  that  of  the  old  man  whose  soul  has 
become  ossified  by  age,  whose  opinions  must  be  right, 
deviation  from  whose  way  must  be  sin — able  to  endure 
no  variant  form  of  thought  which  meets  the  bigot  form 
of  his  most  certainly  essential  truth.  This  latter  in- 
firmity of  age  he  felt  to  be,  in  his  case,  the  more 
especial  danger,  and  he  often  prayed  to  be  kept  from 
it.    He  even  spoke  of  having  taken  it  as  a  fixed  reso- 


56 


lution,  never  to.  allow  any  such  incrustation  upon  his 
soul's  liberty.  The  result  was  that,  in  his  latest  days,  he 
never  had  his  equanimity  disturbed  because  the  world 
moved,  or  because  he  could  not  hold  it  still.  Indeed, 
he  wanted  it  to  move,  and  presented  the  very  uncom- 
mon spectacle  of  an  old  man  willing  to  keep  up  with 
it  even  to  his  grave's  edge. 

He  asserted  the  same  liberty  for  others,  and  even  had 
a  rather  strenuous  battle  for  it  when  he  was  already 
seventy  years  of  age ;  in  which  his  quality  is  nobly 
shown,  and  also  his  ability  to  weather  a  storm  for  lib- 
erty, as  other  old  men  do  for  their  formulas.  In  the 
Ministerial  Association,  where,  by  his  acknowledged 
merit,  he  long  held  the  rank  of  fatherhood  and  chief 
leadership,  it  was  my  lot  to  be  arraigned  for  heresy ; 
this,  too,  if  I  correctly  remember,  on  motion  made  by 
Dr.  Porter  himself,  esteeming  it  a  duty  probably  which 
was  owed  to  the  general  fraternity  and  peace  of  the 
churches.  By  careful  and  fair  inquiry  he  became  sat- 
isfied that  I  was  probably  right  in  some  things ;  in  some 
things  he  was  not  as  well  satisfied ;  in  some  things  I  sup- 
pose that  he  even  blamed  an  appearance  of  departure. 
But  he  could  not  see  that  I  was  fatally  off  the  founda- 
tions, or  that  deposing  me  from  the  ministry  would  con- 
tribute anything  to  the  real  honor  and  safety  of  religion. 
He  voted  therefore  Nay,  and  there  was  a  general  con- 
sent in  the  vote.  Whereupon  protesting  clamors  broke 
out  on  every  side.  He  was  set  upon,  goaded,  im- 
plored, by  brethren  who  were  his  compeers  in  age,  by 
men  of  high  position,  by  younger  men  assuming  to  be 


67 


fathers  before  their  time,  all  demanding  a  reconsidera- 
tion, and  scarcely  anybody  interposing  a  word  to  soothe 
the  panic,  or  to  clear  away  the  smoke  of  it.  But  the 
reconsideration  did  not  come,  simply  because  honest 
conviction  had  majesty  enough  to  be  conviction  still. 
He  knew  what  belonged  to  a  man  acting  on  conviction, 
and  could  not  be  without  understanding  because  he 
was  seventy  years  old.  And  who  is  there  now,  it 
might  be  fairly  asked,  that  does  not  justify  both  his 
judgment  and  his  firmness  in  it  ?  Was  it  laxity  that 
withstood  so  fierce  a  clamor  ?  There  is  nothing  heroic 
in  laxity.  "Was  it  obstinacy  ?  There  was  not  a  particle 
of  obstinacy  in  his  nature.  No,  it  was  the  firmness  of 
a  soul  religiously  wedded  to  truth,  and  daring  with 
brave  confidence  to  assert  some  rational  degree  of  lib- 
erty for  truth's  sake.  I  have  seen  other  old  men  •  I 
have  read  of  many ;  but  a  better,  finer  example  of 
true  Christian  fatherhood  in  the  faith  is,  I  think,  not 
often  seen. 

Now,  it  is  the  more  remarkable  that  Dr.  Porter  kept 
such  open  outlook  on  the  world,  and  such  free  sym- 
pathy with  its  forward  movements,  that  he  lived  his 
whole  life  long  in  this  very  quiet  agricultural  town,  re- 
mote from  all  the  exciting  and  stimulating  causes  of 
his  time  J  also,  that  he  kept  himself  very  much  at 
home,  performing  his  still  rounds  of  duty  with  unceas- 
ing fidelity  and  exactness.  He  worked  as  the  sun  does, 
and  one  year  was  the  duplicate  of  another.  He  was 
punctual,  too,  as  the  sun.  He  not  only  preached,  but 
8 


58 


he  watched  his  sermons  and  his  people  under  them, 
contriving  how,  if  possible,  to  keep  his  work  in  motion. 
He  fanned  every  fire  that  began  to  burn,  and  kindled 
every  fire  he  could.  He  loved  every  conversion  as  a 
miser  does  his  money ;  and  when  conversions  did  not 
come,  he  was  none  the  less  strenuous  to  edify  such  as 
had  come.  He  M^atched  the  schools  not  less  carefully, 
and  kept  them  in  his  eye,  as  visitor  and  examiner  of 
teachers,  from  first  to  last.  All  his  habits  ran  to  faith- 
fulness, and  faithfulness  in  turn  moulded  all  his  work 
into  a  character.  He  was  faithful  to  his  own  household, 
having  it  for  his  reward  to  see  all  his  children  walking 
early  in  the  way  of  his  Christian  example,  and  adding^ 
in  their  places  afterward,  honor  and  respect  to  religion. 
All  the  children  of  all  the  households  were  his,  to  all 
the  youth  he  was  father.  When  they  did  well,  he  re- 
joiced ;  when  they  fell,  he  mourned,  as  a  true  father 
will.  But  the  metropolis  of  his  faithfulness  was  a 
small  city  of  God  which  you  did  not  often  see,  namely 
his  study.  There  grew  apace  his  unflinching,  ceaseless 
way  of  industry.  In  that  chamber  of  silence  he  went  on 
year  by  year,  sending  up  how  many  prayers  for  his  flock, 
and  by  how  many  more  plowing  open  the  word  to  get 
new  food  both  for  himself  and  you.  And  how  beautifully 
fitting  was  the  sign  he  gave  at  the  close,  when  he  left 
his  Greek  Testament  open  upon  his  table,  where  he 
had  been  patiently  deciphering  the  words,  and  taking 
his  last  dear  lesson ! 

Now,  it  might  naturally  be  supposed  that,  in  such  a 
kind  of  life,  he  must  be  legal  and  mechanical,  and  bear 


59 


a  look  of  dryness.  Very  far  from  that ;  lie  bad  a  genial, 
warm,  and  friendly  nature,  and  kneAv  liow  to  connect 
with  so  great  steadiness  of  habit  a  rare  cordiality  and 
gentleness.  If  he  had  a  look  of  dryness  to  some,  it 
was  the  dryness  of  benignity,  which  includes,  in  fact,  a 
good  many  kinds  of  moisture.  Thus,  without  any 
spark  of  wit,  he  had  a  certain  play  of  humor,  so  quiet 
and  covert  that  many  would  not  see  it ;  saying  play- 
fully, for  example,  when  he  came  out  the  morning  after 
his  touch  of  paralysis,  "  Well,  I  feel  now  like  an  old 
man,  but  I  may  be  young  again  [that  is,  in  the  other 
world]  before  noon."  Young  people  were  greatly  drawn 
to  him,  because  he  was  so  evidently  drawn  to  them ;  for 
he  did  not  bring  down  his  old  age  upon  them  in  airs  of 
authority,  but  sought  opportunity  in  them  rather  for  a 
certain  youthful  paternity  of  feeling  that  softened  the 
oppressive  rigors  of  respect.  He  had  also  a  certain  in- 
herent modesty  that  seemed  to  rather  grow  with  age, 
than  to  be  overgrown,  and  which  kept  back  all  such 
appearances  of  rigor.  Those  who  knew  him  best,  even 
his  own  family,  could  say  that  they  never  heard  him 
speak  of  any  thing  he  had  written  or  done,  in  a  self- 
pleasing  way,  because  it  was  his.  He  was  withal  an 
eminently  hospitable  man.  Having  but  a  moderate 
salary,  and  obliged  to  draw  upon  his  few  acres  of  patri' 
mony  for  the  education  of  his  family,  he  must  yet  have 
friends,  and  give  them  a  free  welcome  at  his  table  ;  and 
such  a  table  it  was,  thanks  in  part  to  another,  that  an- 
gels coming  unawares  would  not  think  they  had  missed 


60 


their  place.  His  people  grew  into  the  same  hospitable 
habit.  I  should  make  out  a  curious  inventory  if  I  could 
recount  what  public  meetings,  anniversaries,  and  va- 
riously notified  gatherings  have  been  held  in  Farming- 
ton,  by  his  and  their  consent,  during  the  last  fifty  years. 
We  all  think  it  a  high  honor  and  felicity  of  this  Chris- 
tian pastor  and  his  flock,  that  the  great  American  Board 
of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions  was  here  organ- 
ized, in  his  private  parlor.  But  if  we  consider  what  is 
meant  by  a  Christian  hospitality  to  the  outcast  and  the 
poor,  and  hear  Christ  say,  "  Ye  did  it  unto  me,"  we  shall 
think  it  a  much  greater  and  nobler  felicity,  that  here  is 
the  place,  in  all  this  broad  land,  where  the  poor  Amis- 
tad  captives  must  be  gathered  — finding  here  true  Chris- 
tian friends  to  care  for  and  teach  them,  and  shelter 
them  from  the  hunters  waiting  to  sieze  them  and  drag 
them  back  into  slavery.  So  began  just  here  the  Mendi 
Mission,  which,  though  it  has  encountered  more  adver- 
sity than  was  looked  for,  we  can  not  but  hope  will  some 
time  conquer  the  deserved  success,  and  that  these  Mendi 
,  people  will  be  able,  at  some  future  day,  to  write  Farm- 
ington  at  the  head  of  their  new  civilization.  However 
that  may  be,  it  will  be  seen,  by  all  these  tokens,  that 
legality  and  dryness  could  not  reign,  where  the  Great- 
Heart  principle  was  so  beautifully,  honorably  shown. 

It  will  require  no  specifications  to  show  that  such  a 
life  was  successful.  It  was  also  a  happy  life ;  more  and 
more  happy  in  appearance,  even  to  the  end.  All  that 
he  wanted  for  the  comfort  of  his  old  age  he  had — books, 


61 


and  children  tenderly  mindful  of  him,  and  the  wife  of 
his  youth,  who  had  made  his  house  a  joy  to  him  for  two 
whole  generations,  and  strengthened  him  in  every  best 
work  and  hardest  trial.  His  people  held  him  in  the 
dearest  love  and  reverence.  Enemies  he  had  none ;  it 
was  difficult  to  be  his  enemy.  He  was  happy  in  main- 
taining the  dearest,  tenderest  relationship,  as  of  father 
and  son,  with  his  colleague — being  one  of  the  few  men 
that  can  have  a  colleague.  Though  his  body  was 
breaking,  his  mind  appeared  to  be  as  firm  and  fresh  as 
ever.  The  old  house  began  to  be  dilapidated,  but  the 
occupant  was  even  young  in  it  still.  There  he  rested 
in  a  fair  serenity,  and  his  paternal  look  beamed  upon 
his  friends  and  his  people  even  more  paternally  to  the 
last.  All  the  conditions  of  a  happy  old  age  that  I  have 
named  had  been  fulfilled  in  his  life,  and  the  result  ful- 
filled the  conditions.  God  was  his  friend,  and  it  was  a 
well-tried,  confidently-felt  friendship.  "  Mark  the  per- 
fect man  and  behold  the  upright,  for  the  end  of  that 
man  is  peace." 

Few  men  ever  rose  to  such  eminence  in  a  way  so 
quiet,  and  withal  so  little  pretentious.  He  was  no  de- 
claimer,  no  agitator,  no  platform  man,  no  forward  man 
as  we  commonly  speak ;  but  he  began  to  be  thought  of 
long  ago  as  one  of  the  fixed  stars  in  our  sky — shining 
always  just  there,  making  no  parallax,  yet  all  the  bet- 
ter to  navigate  by.  He  was  sought  as  a  counselor  by 
all  his  brethren,  far  and  near.  He  took  on  no  airs  of 
authority,  and  yet  he  was  bishop  among  the  churches. 


62 


He  at  last  began  to  be  missed  at  our  ordinations  and 
other  councils,  and  seeing  the  patriarchal  chair  stand 
vacant,  we  thought  of  him  with  many  sad  regrets.  If 
he  had  grown  weak,  or  annoying,  or  oppressive,  as  old 
men  often  do,  we  could  easily  have  spared  him  ;  but  we 
had  so  great  comfort  in  his  fatherhood,  that  we  loved 
his  counsel  still,  and  looked  on  his  face  as  a  token  of 
God's  benediction. 

Farewell,  venerable  man !  Be  thy  truly  great  char- 
acter a  mark  for  us,  and  may  thy  noble  fatherhood  drop 
its  mantle  upon  us. 

It  might  be  expected  that  I  should  speak  more  di- 
rectly to  the  church  and  people  he  has  left  and  also  to 
his  family.  But  what  can  I  say,  in  words,  when  such  a 
life  is  speaking  ?  I  have  tried  to  show  you  all  how  it 
is,  pastor  and  people,  that  you  may  win  a  happy  and 
wise  old  age.  But  you  have  been  seeing  this  with  your 
eyes  for  long  years  back,  and  what  can  I  do  now,  bet- 
ter than  to  say — thank  God  for  such  a  leader,  and  fol- 
low him.  K  the  dead  are  blessed  that  die  in  the  Lord, 
have  you  not  seen  how  certainly  blessed  are  the  living 
that  live  in  the  Lord  ? 

We  are  not  surprised,  but  are  none  the  less  pleased, 
to  hear  that  our  venerable  father  had  been  dwelling 
much,  in  the  months  past,  on  the  heavenly  state  before 
him.  He  knows  it  now,  and  the  greetings  of  all  the 
great  good  minds  in  that  high  company  have  put  him 
already  at  home.  And  shall  we  not  have  it  for  a 
thought  most  welcome,  that  when  so  many  children 


63 


pass  in  there,  to  be  cherished  for  the  beauty  of  their 
innocence,  an  old  man  now  and  then  comes  up  thither, 
out  of  his  sins  and  his  weather-beaten  life,  in  a  habit  so 
grandly  true  and  right,  as  to  move  their  glad  respect  ? 


LAST  DAYS. 


Until  within  three  or  four  months  before  Dr.  Porter's 
death,  his  physical  vigor  and  health  had  failed  little, 
his  power  of  endurance  was  not  greatly  lessened,  and 
his  step  was  quick  and  elastic,  so  that  notwithstanding 
the  failure  of  his  sight  and  hearing,  it  was  not  easy  for 
him  to  believe  that  he  had  come  to  so  advanced  age, 
and  he  sometimes  playfully  spoke  of  the  time  as  yet 
to  come  when  he  should  be  an  old  man.  His  sight  was 
so  dim  that  reading  was  laborious,  yet  he  highly  en- 
joyed it,  and  perhaps  sometimes  overtasked  himself  in 
reading.  He  had  wholly  resigned  the  expectation  of 
again  preaching  in  the  pulpit,  but  in  May  last,  Mr. 
Paine  being  called  away  to  a  funeral  on  Sunday  after- 
noon, Dr.  Porter,  that  the  regular  service  might  not  be 
omitted,  preached  without  notes,  a  short  extempore 
discourse,  taking  for  his  subject  the  penitent  thief  on 
the  cross.  The  next  day  he  officiated  at  a  funeral,  and 
on  both  these  occasions,  his  friends  enjoyed  the  appa- 
rently easy  outflow  of  his  thoughts,  revealing  his  inti- 
mate communion  with  God.  He,  however,  remarked 
that  it  had  not  been  easy  for  him  to  sustain  the  course 
9 


66 


of  his  thoughts,  and  a  day  or  two  later,  after  an  hour 
or  two  of  reading,  at  evening,  his  right  side  became 
somewhat  paralyzed,  and  the  next  morning  he  could 
move  but  very  feebly ;  his  sight  was  dimmer  than  be- 
fore, and  his  utterance  was  imperfect.  He  rather  ex- 
pected, very  soon,  another  and  a  fatal  attack,  and  said 
half  playfully,  "I  have  become  now  an  old  man,  but  I 
may  be  a  young  man  before  noon."  He  did  not  look 
forward  to  a  recovery  of  his  powers,  but  cheerfully  and 
quietly  resigned  himself  to  the  loss  of  them.  But  the 
paralysis  proved  less  serious  in  its  effects  than  he  had 
expected,  and  after  a  few  weeks,  although  he  was  more 
easily  wearied  than  before,  and  did  not  regain  his  old 
quick  step,  his  friends  scarcely  remarked  a  change,  and 
a  week  or  two  before  his  death  he  spoke  with  thank- 
fulness of  his  very  comfortable  health,  and  said  that  he 
might  almost  believe  the  paralysis  to  have  been  a  fancy. 
The  summer  passed  for  him  very  serenely,  and  in  his 
prayers  he  several  times  gave  thanks  "for  peaceful 
days  and  quiet  nights."  He  passed  Friday  evening, 
the  14th  of  September,  cheerfully  with  his  family,  but 
early  the  next  morning  he  was  attacked  with  illness. 
It  was  a  bilious  attack,  seeming  not  severe,  and  al- 
though from  the  first  he  was  uncommonly  drowsy,  yet 
he  and  his  family  expected  that  he  would  throw  off  the 
disease,  as  before  in  similar  cases.  But  the  disease, 
without  making  for  several  days  much  progress,  contin- 
ued unabated.  He  suffered  little,  his  strength  was  not 
exhausted,  but  his  mind,  although  not  wandering,  was 
inactive,  and  he  slept  much  and  quietly.    Towards  the 


67 


end  of  the  week,  the  fact  that  he  was  not  throwing  off 
his  disease  awakened  fear  as  to  its  result.  There  was 
no  great  change  until  Sunday  evening,  when  he  sank 
into  a  sleep  from  which  he  was  not  roused.  The  sleep 
became  more  and  more  placid,  and  for  several  hours 
was  as  peaceful  as  the  sleep  of  an  infant,  until  between 
three  and  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the  24th,  his 
breath  ceased,  and  his  spirit  was  at  home  with  God. 

The  funeral  services  were  fixed  for  two  P.  M.,  on 
Wednesday  the  26th.  Many  of  Dr.  Porter's  friends, 
the  neighboring  ministers,  who  would  gladly  have  been 
at  his  funeral,  were  absent  from  home  at  the  annual 
meeting  of  the  American  Board  at  Pittsfield,  Mass.,  and 
a  rain,  which  through  the  da}^  became  more  and  more 
violent,  hindered  many  others,  and  some  of  his  own 
people,  from  coming  to  share  in  the  last  earthly  acts  of 
love  for  him.  His  own  people,  deacons  and  others, 
were  his  bearers.  President  "Woolsey,  of  Yale  College, 
and  Mr.  Paine,  Dr.  Porter's  young  colleague,  conducted 
the  services,  the  fonner  offering  the  funeral  prayer  and 
making  the  address.  The  hymns  beginning,  "  Servant 
of  God,  well  done,"  and  "Unveil  thy  bosom,  faithful 
tomb,"  were  sung.  Before  the  close  of  the  services  at 
the  church,  the  rain  had  become  so  violent  that  burial 
seemed  almost  impossible,  and  it  was  proposed  to  defer 
the  burial  until  the  next  morning,  and  to  leave  the 
remains  for  the  night  in  tlie  church.  All  at  once  as- 
sented with  pleasure  to  this  proposal,  and  during  the 
following  night,  the  body,  looking  as  if  in  natural  sleep, 
lay  in  the  aisle  in  front  of  the  sacrament  table  of  the 


68 


old  church  which  he  had  regarded  and  loved  as  his 
second  home.  The  next  morning  was  beautiful  and 
mild,  and  at  nine  o'clock  Dr.  Porter's  friends  and  neigh- 
bors gathered  at  the  church,  to  bear  his  remains  to 
their  last  earthly  home.  At  the  grave,  Mr.  Paine  spoke 
the  last  words  of  farewell.  He  held  the  book  in  which 
Dr.  Porter  had  recorded  the  long  list  of  deaths  of  the 
generations  whom  he  had  buried  in  the  grave-yard 
where  he  himself  was  now  gathered  to  them,  and  in 
the  older  neighboring  ground.  Before  the  family  of 
Dr.  Porter  left  his  grave,  Mr.  Samuel  Porter,  the  eldest 
son,  in  a  few  words,  in  behalf  of  the  family  of  him  who 
had  just  been  laid  in  the  grave,  expressed  heartfelt 
thanks  to  all  who  by  taking  part  in  the  funeral,  had 
showed  their  love  and  sympathy,  and  added  that  the 
family  all  desired,  around  the  grave,  to  express  their 
grateful  recognition  of  the  love  and  kindness  bestowed 
by  the  people  on  their  friend  and  father,  during  the 
long  years  now  past,  especially  for  the  manifest  love 
and  respect  which  had  so  much  soothed  and  made 
cheerful  and  happy  his  declining  years.  He  hoped 
that  God  would  grant  to  all  grace  so  to  live  thereafter 
that  the  end  might  be  peaceful,  and  that  all  might  share 
with  him,  now  in  his  grave,  a  blessed  immortality. 

The  pulpit  in  which  Dr.  Porter  had  so  long  preached, 
and  the  chair  in  which  he  had,  in  later  times,  sat,  a 
meek  and  earnest  listener,  remained  for  thirty  days 
draped  in  black. 

The  Sunday  following  Dr.  Porter's  death,  Mr.  Paine 
delivered  the  memorial  discourse  now  printed.  Dr. 


69 


Bushnell  had  been  invited  to  take  part  in  the  funeral 
services,  but  had  been  prevented  by  the  severe  storm 
from  being  present.  At  the  request  of  Mr.  Paine  and 
of  others  of  Dr.  Porter's  friends,  he  prepared  and 
preached  in  Dr.  Porter's  pulpit,  on  the  third  Sunday 
after  his  death,  the  discourse  herewith  pubhshed. 


RESOLUTIONS. 


At  the  Annual  Meeting  of  the  First  Ecclesiastical 
Society  of  Farmington,  held  on  the  3d  day  of  Decem- 
ber, A.  D.  1866,  the  following  Preamble  and  Kesolutions 
were  unanimously  adopted : 

Whereas,  God  in  his  providence,  has,  during  the  past 
year,  removed  by  death  the  Kev.  Noah  Porter,  D.  D., 
for  sixty  years  the  Pastor  of  this  Church  and  Society, 
therefore 

Resolved,  That  we  bow  with  profound  grief,  and  with 
submission,  to  this  afflictive  dispensation. 

Resolved,  That  this  Society  desire  to  express  their 
high  appreciation  of  the  character  and  services  of  Dr. 
Porter,  during  his  long  and  faithful  service,  as  their 
spiritual  shepherd  and  guide.  We  bear  our  grateful 
testimony  to  the  purity  and  blamelessness  of  his  life,  to 
his  entire  devotion  to  the  duties  of  his  office,  as  a 
preacher,  pastor  and  friend,  to  his  usefulness  as  a 
citizen,  and  in  all  his  relations  to  society. 

Resolved,  That  we  tender  to  his  family  an  expression 
of  our  heartfelt  sympathy  with  them  in  their  affliction, 


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and  our  earnest  desire  that  they  may  personally  be 
sustained  by  the  precious  truths  which  their  honored 
and  beloved  husband  and  father  has  so  often  and  ten- 
derly administered  to  the  afiiicted  of  his  flock. 

Resolved,  That  a  copy  of  these  Resolutions  be  signed 
by  the  Moderator  and  Clerk  of  this  meeting,  and  be 
presented  to  the  family  of  Dr.  Porter. 

Attest, 

SAMUEL  S.  COWLES,  CkrJc. 


VOTE  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


At  the  Annual  Meeting  of  the  First  Congregational 
Church  of  Farmington,  held  January  2d,  1867,  it  was 
unanimously  voted  to  enter  the  following  minute  upon 
the  Records  of  the  Church,  and  that  the  Clerk  be  re- 
quested to  communicate  a  copy  of  the  same  to  the 
family  of  our  late  Senior  Pastor,  Dr.  Porter  : 

The  past  year  has  been  marked  in  the  history  of  this 
Church  by  the  removal  from  among  us  by  death  of  our 
late  greatly  beloved  and  revered  Senior  Pastor,  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Porter.  For  nearly  sixty  years  has  he  been 
spared  to  go  before  this  flock  as  their  spiritual  shepherd 
and  guide.  During  all  this  period  has  he  shown  him- 
self to  be  a  single-hearted  Christian ;  pure,  gentle,  for- 
getful of  self,  circumspect  in  life  and  conversation,  and 
in  all  his  relations  and  conduct  commending  the  religion 
he  professed  to  those  around  him. 

We  would  gratefully  record  our  testimony  of  his 
worth  to  this  community  as  a  citizen.  By  his  public 
spirit ;  by  his  deep  interest  in,  and  efforts  to  promote 
10 


74 


the  prosperity  of  our  public  schools ;  by  his  steadfast 
adherence  to,  and  advocacy  of,  what  ever  has  tended 
to  promote  the  public  morals  and  highest  temporal 
prosperity  of  the  town ;  by  his  judicious  counsels  and 
liberal  contributions,  has  he  been  to  us  alike  a  model 
and  a  public  benefactor. 

But  chiefly  do  we  desire  here  to  express  our  pro- 
found appreciation  of  his  eminent  excellence  and  faith- 
fulness as  a  Christian  minister.  Into  the  pulpit  has  he 
habitually  brought  discourses  carefully  prepared,  rich 
in  thought,  elevated  in  style  and  expression,  and  above 
all  designed  and  adapted  to  meet  the  spiritual  wants 
of  his  hearers,  and  imbued  throughout  by  the  spirit 
and  doctrines  of  the  gospel.  As  a  pastor,  has  he 
sought  out  alike  the  rich  and  the  poor,  guiding  the 
erring  and  ignorant,  comforting  the  afflicted,  standing 
by  the  bedside  of  the  sick  and  dying,  and  imj)arting 
to  all  the  consolations  needed  by  them.  Even  when 
compelled  by  the  burdens  and  infirmities  of  age  to 
cease  from  more  active  services,  has  he  blessed  us 
by  his  counsels  of  wisdom  and  love  in  our  homes,  and 
in  the  prayer  meeting,  and  when  his  strength  has 
allowed,  by  his  presence  and  benedictions  in  the  house 
of  God. 

Long  will  the  fruits  of  his  labors  be  gathered  by  us. 
Cherished  in  the  deepest  affections  of  our  hearts  shall 
be  his  memory  and  instructions.  To  God  shall  our 
prayers  ascend  for  the  venerable  and  beloved  partner 
of  his  life,  so  long  as  God  shall  permit  her  to  remain 


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among  us,  and  also  for  his  children.  And  to  them 
would  we  express  our  sympathy,  and  our  assurances  of 
continued  respect  and  regard. 

Attest, 

T.  K.  FESSENDEN,  CUrTc. 


